Return to Me
by Striped Neko
Summary: Haunted by the ghosts of the past and current misunderstandings, Gwendal von Voltaire has never been an easy demon to love. Can the Maou's light overcome the stoic General's resistance? Will he win Gwendal's heart, or lose him to old regret? Gwen/Yuu
1. Chapter 1

_So, here we are again, my friends—another multi-chapter fic, and this time the pairing is…GwendalxYuuri. I've had a couple of requests for this pairing, and I have no idea, really, truly, no idea where this one is going. For all that Gwendal is my personal favorite character in the KKM world, pairing him with Yuuri, as pairing him with Gunter was in the last fic, something that will really stretch my brain. So, where I am beginning is this: I think the anime shows Gwendal to be thoughtful, insightful, and really, really, really challenged when it comes to expressing his more tender emotions to beings other than adorable creatures, and cute, lovable bearbees. Of course, there's Yuuri, who is vivacious, headstrong, and always, always, always leading with his heart. So, let's see where this goes, ok? And, as an aside, I'll be regularly updating a series of ConYuu one-shots because I am devoted to that pairing, and it might be the only way I can keep Conrad from hijacking this fic and running away with the Maou. All right, Phee and Sillvog…beat me with Yozak's lucky dress if this one goes awry. I'll be counting on you to challenge me. (P.S. the ConYuu one-shot series is titled: Loving the Maou: A Soldier's Handbook, just so you can follow it if you like). So, this is my disclaimer for this fic: I DON'T OWN KYOU KARA MAOU. And, really, as much time as I spend working on fics, you'd think they'd throw me a bone, right? Sadly, no. So, the characters aren't mine, just the words I use to describe them. Ready? Strapped in? Ok, here we go and I'll see you at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

_**Chapter One: The Worst Date Ever...**_

"I'm not wearing that."

Gunter von Kleist sighed and tried, once more, to coax his king into the costume he was holding. "Heika," he said, smiling. "I assure you, this is a very traditional costume. You will look very well in it, and besides, Princess Greta will only be ten once in her life. You promised her a costume party, so, it's hardly fitting if you don't dress up as well."

"I know all that Gunter," the Maou said, his lovely lips turning down into a frown. "I am more than happy to dress up for this party…but…_THIS_? No way! When you said costume, I thought you meant a pirate, or a secret agent—possibly even a highwayman, but there is no way in either world, that I'm wearing a _BUNNY SUIT!_"

Gunter cringed, the outraged screech of the Maou's voice traveling straight down his nerves. At a loss, the adjutant hesitated, the soft, fluffy costume still in his hands. He was saved, however, when the princess came into the room.

"Yuuri!" Greta cried. "Are you ready yet?"

The young girl bounced into the room, dressed in a smaller version of the costume Gunter currently held in his hands. She did look just like a small, brown and white bunny, with one straight ear and one flopped forward. The tip of her nose had been painted pink and small whiskers had been carefully glued to her cheeks. With her large brown eyes, and her bright smile, she was absolutely adorable.

"I'm not quite ready yet, sweetheart," The Maou said, his cheeks suffusing with blush. "You look great, Greta…so cute!"

"Do you like it?" She said, happily twirling to show off her costume. "I can't wait to see you in yours! Wolfram wouldn't wear his, because he said that pink doesn't suit him, and he's going as an old-fashioned knight, but that's ok, because you and I will match and everyone will know that you're my papa!"

Gunter schooled his features to remain neutral as he gazed on the king. He could see the young man war within himself, finally coming to a decision. "Well, I'll be ready in a little bit, Greta. So, if you'll just wait for me, I'll come for you as soon as I can. Maybe you could make sure everyone else is ready?"

"Ok, Yuuri!" Greta sang out. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Oh…Greta," the king said quickly, before the little girl could disappear out the door. "I might make one or two very slight alterations to the costume, ok?"

"Alt…alterations?" she asked, confused.

"Well, instead of carrying the basket, I was thinking of wearing a sword…what do you think?"

The little girl tapped her fingers against her lips, considering the possibility. "That sounds ok. I know! I'll go and ask Gwendal for a little dagger—then we can still match."

"I don't know, Greta. Daggers can be dangerous." Yuuri frowned.

"Ask his Excellency for one of the practice daggers, Greta," Gunter said, softly. "Those will be perfectly safe."

Greta grinned and clapped her hands together. Gunter listened to her joyous laughter as she ran away.

"Now, Heika," he said, turning back to the Maou. "What shall we do?"

"All right, all right, just give it to me," Yuuri-heika muttered. "But…I want a sword, so I guess Morgif will have to do. And an eye-patch."

"Very well, Heika." Gunter knew it was now as good as it was going to get.

--O.o.O—

Gwendal made a few last minute adjustments to his costume, not that it entailed very much. Dressed in the custom of an ancient Celtic warrior, or undressed as the case may be, he wore only a garment Gunter referred to as a sagum. The short skirt made of heavy leather that folded in pleats barely came to middle of his thighs. Over his shoulders, the mid-length cape draped down his back and over one side. It was fixed with a sharp length of bone that acted as a pin. Gwendal thought the bone was a smart choice, actually, considering it was sharp enough to be used as a dagger if necessary. His sword did not fit with the costume, as he had seen the weapons pictured in the Maou's earth history book that Gunter used to fashion his costume. His own sword was finer, more easily manipulated than the heavy short swords he had admired, but Gwendal acknowledged that such details could be overlooked. It was a party after all—and even if it was, Gwendal's first priority and responsibility was Shin Makoku's safety, and that meant the safety of the king. Therefore, he was never unarmed.

A tap on his door took his attention from his mirror. "Come in."

"Gwendal, are you almost ready?" Gunter asked, as he came into the General's room.

Gwendal looked over his best friend's costume. Gunter looked beautiful, as usual. He was dressed as another character from Earth's history—a Roman Catholic Pope. His white gown flowed around him, gold and silver trim glinting in the light.

"Um, Gunter. Why do you get to wear the nice clothes and I get the old horse blanket?"

"Oh hush," Gunter said, fussing with the folds of the sagum. "You are a king of the Visigoths, Gwendal, and this was the traditional uniform of one of their soldiers. Much of what you're wearing was adopted by the Romans, of which I am the Spiritual Head, tonight. Where are your shin guards and sandals?"

"I don't want to wear them."

"You have to put them on! Yuuri-heika and Greta are counting on everyone."

Gwendal crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Ok, I'll wear them, but what about something for my chest—I feel strange without a shirt."

The adjutant shook his head and glared. "No! Look, I played five rounds of chess with you Gwendal, and the condition of your losing meant _I_ got to choose the costumes. I've already compromised on your sword, so just…just put on your shin guards! It's not like I ask that much of you."

"Oh, all right, then," Gwendal muttered, sitting down on his bed and strapping the leather shin guards to his lower legs. Gunter had to help him with the knots on the strange sandals, but it was easier just to give in rather than risk Gunter's tears. He didn't really mean to be so grumpy anyway, he just had the feeling that everyone was going to laugh at him…and if there was one thing he hated, it was being the object of scorn.

"I feel ridiculous."

Gunter came to stand at his shoulder, smiling into the mirror where they were now both reflected. "But you look amazing," the adjutant said.

Before Gwendal could move, Gunter had plucked the tie from his hair, loosing his dark, grayish brown mane so that it tumbled over his shoulders and down his back.

"What are you doing!" Gwendal shouted.

"No," Gunter replied, tossing the hair tie over his shoulder. "Tonight you let your hair down, Gwendal, literally. It's part of the costume."

"You owe me for this," Gwendal growled, feeling increasingly self-conscious and more nervous as the moments passed. Outwardly, he knew none of his distress showed, but, still, on the inside he didn't quite know what to do. "Yuuri-heika is going to laugh at me."

"You haven't seen his costume yet," Gunter said, gently. "Don't frown so much, Gwendal. You're so handsome when you are at least…not glaring. Can't you try, just for tonight, to relax a little? You don't want Greta to be afraid, do you?"

"Greta is dressed exactly as she should be and has, therefore, no reason to be concerned. Her costume is…wonderful."

"Even with the little dagger?"

"She didn't tell me what it was for, but it gives her little bunny suit a slightly rakish flair."

"She told me that she wanted to be a bunny, but she is a little concerned that the other children will laugh at her because she's ten now, and maybe bunnies are for younger children…"

Gwendal drew himself to his full, very impressive height. "Princess Greta is perfect the way she is…and if anyone laughs at her, they can deal with me."

"Gwendal, really. What are you going to do? Draw your sword on a child?" Gunter was laughing.

"You know what I mean," Gwendal replied, blushing slightly.

"Yes, I do, and I'm sure everything is going to be just fine, and Greta will have the party she is hoping for."

"I guess it's time then."

"Yes, it is. And, honestly Gwendal, could you smile, just a little bit? You look like you're going to your own execution."

"It's not too late to schedule it," Gwendal muttered as he followed Gunter from the room.

Gwendal did his best, as the evening wore on, to stay on the edges of the party. He admired many of the costumes from afar. He might have complained to Gunter, but in his heart, he wished he had the ease of character it took to enjoy a gathering like this. He had seen his brother, Conrad, dressed as a Shogun—an historical military general from the Maou's earth homeland—dancing with several people, laughing and smiling in that easy way of his. Conrad would always be able to smooth over the awkward moments, never hesitating to offer a kind word or smile to any of the guests. Yes, people loved Conrad—well, those who didn't mind that he was only a half-mazoku. Then, of course, there was Wolfram. What his youngest brother lacked in manners, he made up for in sheer, physical beauty. Many of Wolfram's sins were forgiven by those too dazzled by his blonde hair and emerald eyes. Even so, Gwendal's youngest brother seemed to be in his element. He looked dashing in the traditional costume of Shin Makoku's first knights. If he flipped his hair a bit more than necessary, well, there was no harm in that, right? And, it went without saying that Gunter's ethereal beauty shone through no matter what the man wore. He looked peaceful and benevolent, very much the spiritual head of a major religion. But, Gwendal had read the bloody and war-filled history of the early Catholics of Earth. It made him smile, inwardly, to watch Gunter make his way through the crowd. He was very much like the Pope he was portraying—beautiful on the outside, and a fierce warrior on the inside. Very few people knew Gunter von Kleist as Gwendal did, and the general knew that should anything ever happen to place Yuuri-heika in danger, Gunter's sword would be the first to draw blood—possibly even before Conrad's. Yozak, of course, was dressed in a style that suited his gregarious and irreverent personality. He had chosen the slinky, form-fitting gown reminiscent of a famous female spy from Earth—Mata Hari. Wherever the orange-haired spy went, a laughing coterie of admirers followed him, hanging on his every word.

"Hey, Gwendal." A soft, hesitant voice at his elbow wrested his attention, and Gwendal suddenly had trouble breathing. "Is everything all right?"

He looked down, and to his right, the person he most wished to avoid was staring up at him with wide, black eyes—well, one black eye as the other was covered with an eye-patch.

"Yes, Heika." He answered, keeping his voice carefully steady. "The party seems to be going well."

The young Maou nodded, turning his gaze back on the assembled company. It was easier to refrain from reaching out to touch the fur of the King's costume when he wasn't looking directly at Gwendal. The general's fingers still itched, though, to stroke the soft fabric. The young man looked so…very cute. Gwendal bit back a sigh.

"I think everyone is having a good time," the Maou remarked.

"Yes."

"But, you haven't moved from this spot all night. Are you sure everything's ok?"

Gwendal pressed his lips together in a thin line. Had the King been watching him all this time? "I do feel a little…exposed in this costume."

"I think you look terrific," he whispered, then quickly scratched the back of his head, making one of his floppy ears wiggle in a charming gesture. "I mean, everyone does. All the women have been talking about how handsome you are. You really do look great!"

"Th—Thank you, Heika," Gwendal replied, unsure why the Maou was blushing quite so deeply. But, he acknowledged, it only improved the young man's looks.

"I was wondering…would you, maybe, like to dance? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, or anything. It's just that I've already danced with everyone else, and I was thinking—"

"If you are asking me to dance, Heika, then I have no objection," Gwendal said, rescuing the young man from his embarrassed diatribe. The last thing he wanted to do was dance, especially in front of so many people, but he knew it was his duty to acquiesce to his King's requests.

The king smiled then, his expression lighting his entire face. Gwendal took a deep breath trying to control the now erratic beat of his heart. He really couldn't help it—the handsome young man was engulfed inside the cutest costume he'd ever seen, blushing and giving him that sweet, shy smile that only he had. That particular expression had wormed its way into Gwendal's heart ever since they'd been chained together in the desert years before. Still, this was the Maou and his brother's fiancé. So, the general reminded himself that dancing with him was a duty of state that the King was obligated to perform—and it meant nothing more than that.

Still, he might have taken just one or two liberties as he led the younger man toward the group of dancing revelers. If he held the Maou an inch too close, or let his hand rest just a hair lower than it should on the boy's waist, it really didn't mean anything. Gwendal almost sighed in happiness as he was finally able to sink his fingers into the soft fur of the cute little bunny costume. It was just so charming, and the young man's face was a perfect picture of shy happiness. Gwendal tucked away the moment—holding the young Maou in his arms, guiding him around the dance floor and listening to the boy's excited chatter—as one of the best in his long life. As much as either Gunter or Conrad—though far more understated—his devotion to the Maou of Shin Makoku was complete. Of course the young man was still silly, often lazy, and his great, bountiful heart continued to get him into trouble, but Gwendal had long ago given up his initial resentment of the one he once viewed as an ignorant outsider. He was proud to call Yuuri-Heika his Maou, and dancing with him, even so informally, was enough to make Gwendal forget his own embarrassment at his current state of dress. Besides, Yuuri-heika had called him handsome, and that was good enough for him.

"This suit is so uncomfortable," the Maou said, his breath coming faster. "It's a million degrees inside of this thing!"

Gwendal nodded, and steered his king slightly to his right. Without losing a step, he danced the king out of the room and onto the balcony. It was much cooler outside, and while the sounds of laughter and music were still clear and loud, there was a measure of privacy, as well. Dusk had come and gone, and the courtyard of the castle had been brightly lit with torches and lanterns. The children below were playing an exuberant game of tag. Gwendal stood beside the King, as they both rested their arms on the balustrade.

"Thank you, Gwendal," The king said, breathing deeply. "It really was warm in there, and this is much better."

"You're welcome, your Majesty."

"It's Yuuri, Gwendal. How many years do we have to know each other before you call me by my name?"

Gwendal paused. He had used the Maou's given name before, but…it wasn't something he could allow himself to get used to—something that could become commonplace. He didn't know how to explain it to the young man, but sharp pain slashed across his heart. Using someone's name, their special name, meant intimacy. And intimacy meant caring. And caring meant investing. And investing meant…pain when that person was gone.

"It wouldn't be appropriate, Heika," he said, finally, still staring at the children below.

"I see." The king's voice was laced with disappointment, but Gwendal couldn't allow himself to take his words back.

"I doubt that," the general said suddenly, reaching out and flipping up the eye-patch to reveal the King's other, equally beautiful eye. "There, that's better. That patch doesn't suit you at all."

"You don't think so?" The Maou shook his head. "I just couldn't stand being a bunny. I thought the eye-patch and sword might toughen the costume up a little bit."

Gwendal shook his head. He couldn't verbally express what he was thinking, but he knew that he didn't like the current additions to the king's attire. "What's wrong with bunnies?" he asked. "I love bunnies. And bunnies shouldn't have to wear eye-patches. It would mean he'd been hurt."

The king didn't reply, but he did give Gwendal a hug that began and ended so quickly the general wasn't sure if it happened at all. "Thank you for the dance, Gwendal. I'll go back inside now, but I just wanted to say…you're the most handsome man here tonight, and you shouldn't be embarrassed. No one in Shin Makoku is as sexy as you. And your hair looks really nice down."

Then the young man was gone. Gwendal stood rooted to his spot, and stared. The king thought he was sexy? The king thought _HE_ was _SEXY_? He had been described as many things, but sexy…not that often, maybe not ever. In the dark, in his solitude on the balcony, Gwendal allowed himself a smile. The compliment, awkwardly expressed though it had been, felt good.

Feeling a bit more confident, he went back inside, just in time to see his youngest brother dragging the Maou off to a corner, apparently taking objection to some form of Yuuri-heika's behavior or other. Gunter caught his eye, and smiled. Gwendal dipped his chin in return, and took his place by the door—this time in the light as opposed to the shadows. He kept an eye on the Maou, as he continued to try and get a word in through his younger brother's lecture. The eye-patch had disappeared completely.

--O.o.O—

While the argument with Wolfram had marred his enjoyment of Greta's party, Yuuri had to admit, it had been a great success. He was thrilled, of course, that his daughter was so pleased, and he was proud as well. His little girl had accepted her gifts graciously, and spent the next two days carefully writing thank you notes to everyone who attended. He didn't fail to notice that the stationary she used had been stamped with little, nose-wriggling rabbits.

Tapping his pen against the table, Yuuri considered the future. What kind of party would Greta want when she was older…and rabbits were too passé. He shook his head, sorry he had ever objected to the costume. He now understood that these were precious days, and soon enough, his daughter would begin her own life—even as he had. The day was coming when he would no longer be the only man in her life, and the thought of _that_ truth made the Maou scowl. Someone would recognize her, of course. She was too bright, too vivacious not to attract attention and even as a child her pleasing manners were engaging. In fact, Little Rinji von Wincott had been chasing her around during the game of tag with a bit too much tenacity for Yuuri's liking. Shaking his head again, the king put the thought out of his mind. It was much too early to be worrying about his daughter's future love life. Still, maybe he'd discuss the prospect of private education with Gunter when he had the chance…

"Heika?" Gwendal's stern voice held the usual tone of reprimand and Yuuri realized he'd been daydreaming again.

"I'm sorry, Gwendal. What did you say?"

"I said that it would be better if you read and signed that document you're currently holding, as opposed to doodling all over it."

Yuuri blinked and looked down at his hands. He had been drawing, it was true. There were little bunnies, small children, and little faces dancing across the page. He sighed and looked up and apologized. "I'm sorry, really, Gwendal. My mind was elsewhere."

"That much is obvious, Heika. Now, if we could continue…?"

Yuuri nodded, and did his best to turn his attention back to the document in his hand, but this time he was distracted by the man seated behind the desk across the room from him. He had taken to doing his morning work in Gwendal's office. It was a habit long left over from his first days in Shin Makoku—before he could read the language and before he really understood what it was that he was meant to do. Those had been the days that Conrad would often appear and rescue him, taking him for a run, or a game of catch. In recent months, however, his soldier had saved him from his work with far less frequency. Yuuri hadn't needed such rescue anyway. He knew his duties, and while he was still easily distracted and hated to spend lovely spring days indoors, he still did his best to perform them.

Curiously, though, the most powerful distraction in his life was neither baseball nor adventure, but the mazoku currently working in silence. He wasn't sure when he'd first noticed it, but Gwendal wrote as though he was in a sword fight. His hand sliced across the page in bold, sure strokes. His pen almost flew with the speed of his thoughts and he almost never took breaks. Then, of course, there was the way he looked framed in the window. Gwendal appeared to best advantage in the morning, Yuuri decided. In the early morning light, his deep blue eyes lightened, and the worry lines around his mouth eased. Yuuri loved the way his sleepy expression slowly gave way to his usual concentrated gaze as the taller man woke up. And there were the small habits, as well. Whenever Gwendal was thinking hard about something—usually a decision he was making that balanced the precarious scale life and death for his soldiers—his fingers worked in the motion of his knitting needles and his lips turned down at the corners, but only just. If some news arrived that was good, instead of smiling, the General always took the message and put it on the right side of his desk. Bad news, or unwelcome intelligence was carefully stacked on the left side of his desk. It broke Yuuri's heart that even though the pile on the left had been reduced over the years, it was still taller than that on the right. There were other things he knew about his general, as well. He knew that Gwendal liked seven sugars in his tea, that he kept the bottle of Laphroig Yuuri brought from Earth for the somber demon's birthday in the lower left drawer of his desk, and he knew that Gwendal suffered from headaches that sometimes made him clench his fists so hard that the quiet general left little half-moon nail gouges in his palms.

"You will not find the answer to your question on my face, Heika," Gwendal said, without looking up from what he was writing. "Unless, of course, the information contained in that document has magically been transferred to my skin?"

"Sorry," Yuuri mumbled, blushing at being caught out in that way. But it wasn't like it was his fault. Gwendal was the epitome of _tall, dark_ and _handsome_. How could Yuuri help but admire him? He was strong, and dependable. He was confident, and calculating. He was stern, true, and maybe he didn't laugh enough, but he was also loyal and unshakably committed to Shin Makoku's prosperity. Gwendal had given the whole of his life to public service, and how could a Maou do anything but respect a demon like that?

His admiration for Gwendal had begun, if he was honest, after he'd been trapped in the desert with him—when he'd been mistaken for his bride. Yuuri could still remember the feeling of the tall general's arm around his shoulders as they shared a frigid night in the great, empty expanse of sand and wind. He remembered Gwendal's bravery as they'd stood before the human court, and the resigned way he'd asked Yuuri to hurt him, just so the Maou could escape. Frowning, Yuuri thought about the way Gwendal's face had looked then, as though he just expected Yuuri to cruelly slice at him and be done with it. Hopefully, his general knew him better than that now. So, he'd acknowledged his crush at least in his own heart, but he never told anyone—except Conrad because he told Conrad everything. It was just a crush, after all, and Yuuri had been sure it would pass. Except, that it hadn't passed, and five years later, Yuuri was still doing his work in Gwendal's office, admiring him from across the room and sneaking glances whenever the General wasn't looking.

"Heika!" Gwendal slammed his pen on the desk. "Is there something hanging from my nose? Why else would you be staring at me so steadfastly this morning?"

Yuuri gulped and looked at the document in his hands. He'd been caught…again. Five years, though...five long years and he still couldn't bring himself to actually confront the dour mazoku in front of him with his feelings. Gwendal was not approachable, not the confidant that Conrad was. And, he certainly was not gentle or understanding like Gunter—despite the beautiful adjutant's tendency to smother Yuuri in tight hugs. Gunter was almost as close to him as Conrad, and Yuuri knew he could talk to the scholar about anything. He could even handle Wolfram with all his fits of temper, because he wasn't intimidated by him, but Gwendal…he was like a beautiful, terrible, powerful sculpture. You went to museums to see heroes like his general, carved in marble, and you were always just a little glad to escape the room because of the nagging feeling that if you were to linger just a little too long, that marble might begin to turn into flesh, and if you were ever faced with such a creature alive, you'd probably meet the end of his sword. Yuuri didn't really think he was a coward, but he wasn't an idiot either, and every time he tried to tell Gwendal what he was thinking, he ended up biting his tongue. He could just imagine the older man's horrified look, the cringing disgust in those handsome blue eyes.

"Heika…is something on your mind?" Gwendal's voice was softer now, his usual growl had gentled into a sort of soft rumble that caused a little shiver of pleasure to race down Yuuri's spine. The Maou both loved and hated that sound. He loved it because it made him feel all strange and melty inside his chest, and he hated it because he knew it wasn't meant to make him feel like that.

Conrad had told him once that bravery was nothing more than doing what you feared to do when the time was right. Yuuri took a deep breath. Maybe he could be brave.

"There is a party in three nights from now—for Lord Radford's son. You know he married, right?"

"Yes." Gwendal was staring at him now, his fingertips bridged together and his elbows resting on his desk.

"Well, I have to go and I was wondering…if maybe you'd go with me?"

Yuuri bit his lip and tried not to stare. Gwendal looked as though he'd just slapped him with a rotten trout.

"Wolfram should accompany you, Heika. It would not be appropriate for me to do so."

"Oh." Yuuri nodded, and blinked, surprised to feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. "I guess it doesn't matter, then, but Wolfram took Greta to visit Cheri-sama this morning, to complete her birthday week. I'll just go alone. I apologize if I offended you, Gwendal, I didn't mean to."

"I'm not offended," Gwendal said, his expression easing a tiny bit. "I didn't know Wolfram had taken a trip."

"It was…a sudden decision." Yuuri thought it best not to include the part where he and Wolfram had descended into a screaming match the night before culminating in his fiancé calling him a cheater, yet again, and Yuuri suggesting the blonde take some time to cool off.

"I see."

"Anyway, it's ok. I'll go on my own."

"You cannot attend without protection, Heika. In this case, shouldn't Conrad escort you?"

"He already has a date. It's ok, though. He'll still be there, so that will be all right, I guess."

Gwendal's frown etched deeper into his face. "No, that won't do. You must have an escort with you. What about Gunter…?"

"Don't worry about it," Yuuri said, gathering up his papers. He had to get out of the room before he made a bigger fool of himself. The man couldn't make it more obvious that he didn't want to go, and if he said another word Yuuri was sure he was going to cry. "I'll figure something out."

"I'll go."

Yuuri paused, hardly daring to breathe. "I'm sorry…?" He couldn't have heard the man right.

"I said I'll go," Gwendal replied quietly. "I didn't realize the situation, Heika. You cannot go alone."

Yuuri shook his head quickly. "No, it's obvious you don't want to go with me, Gwendal. I wouldn't ask you to do something you find objectionable. Please forget I even asked."

"I never said I didn't want to go with you, Heika. I just didn't want to cause a scandal."

"You…You want to go with me?" Yuuri asked, still feeling teary.

His heart relaxed when Gwendal nodded. "I would be happy to attend, Heika. Thank you for thinking of me."

"You're the only person I asked," Yuuri confessed before fleeing from the office. He didn't want Gwendal to see his first expression of glee any more than he wanted the man to see his disappointed tears.

"But Heika!" He heard the general shout as he was turning the corner at the end of the hall. "You haven't finished signing these documents yet!"

--O.o.O—

_This_ is not a date. This is not a _date_. "This is _NOT_ a date," Gwendal repeated, out loud this time, to his reflection in the mirror. Still, he took extra care with his hair, brushing it until it gleamed in the candlelight. He fingered the tie he usually used to secure his ponytail and decided, finally, against it. It wasn't really because Yuuri-heika had said he preferred it loose. If he spent more time than usual making certain that his boots were polished to gleaming perfection, and that his formal-dress uniform was spotless, well, he was just paying attention to detail. No, this wasn't a date. In his capacity as advisor to the king, and the chief military officer of Shin Makoku, he was accompanying his Maou to a social event in place of the king's absent fiancé. It was nothing more than that.

So, there was no reason his fingers should tremble as he buckled his sword belt around his waist. There was no reason that he should check the attachment of the tiny plastic bando-kun a third time, to make sure that it was secure on his scabbard. Of course, the King had given him the small, adorable trinket many years ago now, but it still made Gwendal feel just a little bit special. No one else in Shin Makoku had one—only he did, and that it came from Earth made it that much more unusual.

"You've really gone all out," Conrad said as he pushed away from his place near Gwendal's bookshelf. "Yuuri-heika will be stunned."

"If I must attend this gathering, then I believe I should look my best. It is expected after all."

"Of course it has nothing to do with wanting to impress a certain Maou?"

"You are teasing me." Gwendal said flatly.

His younger brother smiled, his expression kindly but his eyes grew serious. "Not really. He likes you, Gwendal, but you still scare him a little. Try to be nice, all right?"

"You act like _his_ older brother."

"Not at all," Conrad replied, his smile still intact. "I'm his nazukeoya, his godfather, and his happiness means the world to me. Please, try not to frighten him."

Gwendal frowned. Was he such a monster that he had to be lectured by his younger brother on how to be civil? "I think my father taught me decent manners, Conrad."

His brother nodded, and brushed his shoulders. "You do look very handsome. Will you ride in the carriage or take your horse?"

"The Maou will travel by carriage, therefore I will as well. As you are escorting Lady Gilbit tonight, someone must be with the Maou at all times."

"I offered, but Yuuri-heika wanted to ask you."

"He…he wanted me?" Gwendal shook his head lightly. "I don't see why."

"I've noticed," his brother said, under his breath. "All right. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Gwendal couldn't bring himself to admit that he was actually looking forward to the evening so he said, "Let's get this over with. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can come home."

The evening began well. Gwendal had been surprised when Yuuri-heika had presented him with a small rosebud for his jacket. He didn't realize that the king knew the tradition that the Maou's escort could be identified by the deep-blue rose—only the Maou's maryoku could change the color of the blossom, thereby preventing imitation. He noticed that the king's fingers trembled as he pinned it to his jacket, the young man's blush turning even the tips of his ears red.

In the carriage, as they traveled the short distance into the city, the conversation between them was sporadic, but not uncomfortable. The party was held at the new theatre that had been opened the year before. In order to celebrate the marriage of the two nobles, the Radford's had commissioned a play. After the performance, there was to be dancing and refreshments in the grand ball room. Gwendal stayed near the Maou's side during the performance of a play that was so boring, so grandiose, that even his practiced skills nearly failed him and he almost nodded off. When Yuuri-heika leaned over and whispered softly in his ear that he would really, all things being equal, rather listen to Morgif recite the names of every Maou and all their progeny, Gwendal had to smother a sudden laugh with a cough. When the performance finished, and the fact it finished at all caused the assembled nobles to spring to their feet with thunderous applause, which was led by the Maou, Gwendal escorted the young king to the ballroom.

_It was there that the evening started to go wrong._

First, he was unable to stay close to Yuuri-heika, as the two were often in demand and seemingly never by the same people at the same time. Enough foreign dignitaries were in attendance that it seemed Gwendal was often cornered in a discussion centering on treaties and border disputes. So, he missed the first dance. While it was tradition for the King to dance the first dance as well as the last with his escort, the first was not as important. So, Gwendal shrugged it off—catching Yuuri-heika's eye from across the room, and the clear apology contained in the expression of the king's face was enough for him. The Maou had been sidetracked, as well, it seemed, for he was surrounded by several young noblewomen all vying for his attention. He was more vulnerable prey without Wolfram's usual jealous perimeter established.

As the evening progressed, and the heat from all the bodies packed into one room increased, Gwendal found himself increasingly uncomfortable in his formal attire. As his discomfort grew, his temper shortened, and the small details that might have rolled off his back before began to grate on his nerves. Yuuri-heika was often out of the room, his arm taken by one guest or another, and then the requests started to pour in. This lord wanted a meeting with the Maou, then that lord was extending a house party invitation, and this diplomat wanted concessions on that treaty, or that foreign ruler wanted rights to water their bloody damned sheep on Shin Makoku land. Everything conspired together to put Gwendal in a foul humor, and when the last dance, finally, was called, he stalked toward the balcony where he'd arranged to meet the Maou ready to finish the night and call the whole thing quits.

_But there was no Yuuri-heika to be found_.

Gwendal forced his face to remain blank and unconcerned, even though he was aware of every pair of eyes trained on him. His stomach twisted in his belly, and the sensation of doom fell heavy on his shoulders. Conrad, probably sensing his distress, eased through the crowd, the Lady Gilbit on his arm, and the three of them stood there, trying to make conversation as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but the whispers were already racing through the crowd, and Gwendal fought his deepening feeling of shame. The last time something like this had happened to him was seventy years ago, and it had taken him all this time to live it down…it couldn't possibly be happening again, right? Really, did lightning strike twice in the same demon's life? He shrugged, and the music began despite the delay. As the couples moved across the floor he reminded himself that this was not the same thing—he was not here as the Maou's intended. And seventy years ago, it hadn't been the king, but a noble woman that had stood him up, then later been found in the arms of another man. Still, the rumors would fly unless something intervened on his behalf.

Gwendal von Voltaire was never a man who believed in luck. He had never in his life, in fact, been a lucky demon. And this night was no different. The last dance was ending when Yuuri-heika came back into the room, flanked on one side by Lord Gyllenhaal and on the other side by the smug mazoku's eldest daughter. The entire group assembled seemed to take a collective breath. Gwendal closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, but the picture before him was still the same. It didn't matter what the truth was, the end result was set: _He had been formally snubbed, cut by the Maou, and his reputation that he'd worked so hard to build and maintain crumbled around him and lay ruined at his feet._

"Don't be angry, Gwendal," Conrad whispered, his eyes wide. "He didn't know. You know he didn't know. Look at Gyllenhaal. He was probably planning this from the start."

Gwendal made no reply. He merely squared his shoulders and stared at a point high above the door. What could he say, anyway? Yuuri-heika might not have understood the impact of his actions, but the outcome was still the same. By tradition, he was now deemed unacceptable in the eyes of the king, at least socially, and his ability to act as an advisor and general was now severely compromised. There was no way out of this now. Well, there was one way, but the likelihood of that happening was about the same was the likelihood that he was about to sprout wings and fly around the room like an hysterical kohi. The crowd was moving again, briefly blocking Yuuri-heika from his sight. Conrad's hand was clenched on the hilt of his sword, but his younger brother seemed at a loss as to how best to act, and for his part, Gwendal was rooted to his spot.

When the dancers shifted again, and he could see the king, the Maou's face was blank with what appeared to be shock. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a flash of orange, but it was gone before he could process it completely. His attention was on the young man that had caused, unwittingly or no, his humiliation. The young man was moving, breaking away from the Gyllenhaals and parting the crowd with a determined stride. He never took his eyes from Gwendal and a new knowledge was evident in his wide, sad black eyes. His entire frame seemed to shout his unhappiness, his regret, and Gwendal almost turned away as the Maou came to a stop in front of him.

"Gwendal," Yuuri-heika said. "Give me your hand."

No. No, this was not happening. Gwendal would rather live with the dishonor than see the Maou do something he knew he would regret. When he didn't immediately move, the king reached out and took his fingers. Lord von Voltaire had no idea why the muscles of his arm refused to obey his commands, but they remained limp and unresisting as the king lifted his hand and pressed his lips softly against his fingers. And, just like that, the room exploded into applause and happy shouts of congratulations.

With the one gesture, the work of a heartbeat, the King had transformed Gwendal's status from pariah to privileged. Openly, before most of the kingdom's nobility, Yuuri-heika had openly acknowledged Gwendal von Voltaire as his lover, and as such, in their first formal appearance, it would be completely inappropriate for them to dance together.

"Why…?" he whispered in a voice low enough that only Yuuri-heika could hear.

"Because Yozak told me what I did. I couldn't let you pay for my mistake."

Gwendal didn't have time to say anything else. Already, a line had formed and he turned to accept the congratulations of Lord Radford himself. Yuuri-heika stood beside him, his face unreadable throughout the interminable wishes for their happiness. It seemed like years before they could leave, though it was probably only an hour, but the carriage ride back to Blood Pledge Castle was anything but silent.

Driven by his anger and his shame, Gwendal started his lecture the minute the door closed. He railed against the boy, ticking off his transgressions on his fingers as he made his objections to every one of the king's actions during the course of the evening. He was particularly harsh when it came to the Maou making promises to foreigners without even discussing it with his advisors first, and he was in such a temper that he didn't stop when the boy's shoulders slumped, and the king began to stare, determinedly, out the window.

"I'm really sorry, Gwendal." The Maou whispered. "I know I've always been a disappointment to you—a bad Maou. I didn't mean to make you this angry."

"I'm not angry!" Gwendal shouted.

Then he clamped his teeth together, finally catching the glint of something on Yuuri-heika's cheek, something illuminated by the moonlight. Tears. A single track of silent tears snaked their way from the corner of the Maou's eye, the one that Gwendal could see, over his cheek, and dripped from the sharp line of his jaw.

As he opened his mouth, to apologize, a sudden jolt threw Gwendal across the carriage and into Yuuri-heika's chest. There was a moment of suspension, when everything seemed to stop, then a sound of splintering wood as the world tilted at a crazy angle and everything began to turn. Gwendal tried not to crush the Maou as the carriage rolled, but he still landed heavily on the young man when the carriage frame finally came to a stop.

Anxious and concerned, he started to run his hands over Yuuri-heika, checking for injuries. "Are you all right?" he ground out.

"I'm fine," the Maou replied, shoving at his shoulders. "Please get off me, Gwendal. Just get off!"

Gwendal scrambled backwards, shocked by the sharp tone of his Maou's voice. He'd never heard him sound so…hurt. Shoving wreckage out of the way, Gwendal pulled himself out of the broken carriage. He balanced on top, then reached down, offering a hand to the Maou, but he felt the sharp sting of a smack against his fingers. He drew back and the young man scrambled out by himself.

"What happened?" Gwendal snapped as the soldiers accompanying them tried to help him down. He jumped, landing lightly on his feet, and stood, hands on hips, glaring at them, his displeasure evident even in the dark.

"A broken axle, Sir," one of the young soldiers answered, his voice shaking. "The horses…well, they bolted."

"A broken axle? An accident?" Yuuri asked, accepting the help of the second soldier as he carefully picked his way across the sheared wood.

"Probably, Heika," the soldier answered, looking at Gwendal. "But, we won't know for sure until we can see the wreckage at daylight."

"You, stay here with the carriage," Gwendal said to the young man that had helped Yuuri. "And you go after the horses," he said to the other.

"Well, what do we do now?" The Maou asked. "Conrad's carriage left before us and went in the other direction anyway."

"It is unlikely that we'll meet anyone else before daylight," Gwendal replied, looking toward the sky, trying to hold his temper in check. "We'll be stuck here all night, it seems."

"How far are we from home?"

"About five miles, maybe a little less." Gwendal looked at the Maou. "I'll build a fire and we can wait out the night here. I think we should get away from the wreckage, though, just in case it wasn't an accident, and someone comes to inspect the fruits of his labor."

"No way," Yuuri-heika said, turning on his heel. "I don't want to stay here. There's enough moonlight to see by, and home isn't far. We just stay on this road, I think, right?"

Gwendal nodded, unsure what to say.

"Fine. I'm walking."

"You can't go by yourself, Heika." Gwendal reached out to take the Maou's hand and guide him from the roadside, but the boy shook him off.

"Then you stay with the carriage. I'll send some of your soldiers back for you. The Captain can escort me."

Gwendal was going to object, but the Maou had already turned his back. He shut his mouth, feeling increasingly guilty with every step the king took. He'd hurt the boy's feelings, that was plain. Still, he was so reckless, so thoughtless. _But he sacrificed his own honor to replace yours_, his conscience reminded him sternly.

"I'm sorry…Yuuri," Gwendal said. But he knew it was too late. The Maou was already gone.

* * *

_Ok, so…there's chapter one. I have a lot of mail to answer, and that's on my plate for the morning. I had to work an extra shift today. I loooooove flu season, oh yes, I do. Anyway…I wanted to start this one off with some awkward obstacles, just to see what the silent and stoic Gwendal might do when faced with them. So, Yuuri's upset, Gwendal's ashamed, and I reckon in Chapter two, we might find out a little more about what happened to Gwendal seventy years ago. And, I also suppose that Wolfram might be a little upset when he hears about Gwendal's new title as Lover of the Maou. Anyway, let me know what you think…Gwendal's a complicated demon (in my mind at least) and this one may turn out to be a long one, but if you bear with me, I promise there will be some laughs as well as romance in this one. I'll be seeing you…_


	2. Chapter 2

_Right, so…here we are in chapter two. It was nice to come home from work today and write this chapter, because sometimes my job is really hard—emotionally speaking. In the last chapter, Gwendal and Yuuri rocky start quickly went downhill, and in Chapter two, our gentlemen start to pick up the pieces. There are more conflicts to come, and hopefully a surprise or two, but you are all such careful readers you will no doubt anticipate me! Thank you so much for your reviews, and scythe, it was lovely to see you again! Hopefully your questions will be answered in this and later chapters. I will answer reviews just as soon as I can, but this weekend is going to be a long one for me at work—so I will work on my replies as soon as possible. Thank you for reading this one…it may take some serious effort for me to get it done! I still don't own the Maou, etc., and you can insert your favorite disclaimers here. I'll see you at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Soldier, An Adjutant and A Maou walk into a bath…**

When Gwendal arrived at Blood Pledge Castle the morning after the disastrous marriage celebration, all was strangely quiet. Even though he knew Yuuri-heika had returned safely, as evidenced by the soldiers who arrived later to retrieve him, there was no sign of the young Maou. Gwendal supposed the king was sleeping in, and the general was a bit envious. His own embarrassment had prevented him from returning at all, so he had stayed at the scene of the carriage wreck, waiting until daylight so he could assess the situation properly. He was unsettled to the point that his usual frown-lines looked more like grooves beneath his eyes. The morning sun had revealed the truth that the carriage accident was no accident at all. The axle had been tampered with, expertly sawed so that they would accomplish most of their journey before the weakened wood finally gave way. The horses' tack—the long lengths of harness—had also been cut, not quite the entire way through, so that when the vehicle overturned, they were loosed. Someone, as yet unidentified, had intended harm to the Maou at least, and it was an assassination attempt at worst.

Gwendal craved his bed, and the solace of forgetfulness that sleep would bring, but he could not spare himself that luxury. He needed to inform Gunter and Conrad of the results of his investigation. The truth was, though, that he could probably rest for a few hours before dropping this latest piece of damnable news, but his restless spirit wouldn't settle. Though he could sense life stirring within the castle walls—smells of food cooking, the laughter of maids as they rushed about their domestic duties, and the sounds of soldiers and horses, he was still, surprisingly alone as he walked through the halls. That in and of itself was disheartening, but not altogether unusual. He knew that most of the inhabitants of the castle avoided him on principle. The only people who sought him out intentionally, if he was honest, were Gunter, Greta, and Anissina—especially when she wanted to torture him with some new experiment. He told himself that he didn't mind. He had resigned himself long ago to a solitary existence and he had actively worked to make sure that he was rarely disturbed. So, if he was lonely, then he had only himself to blame.

The image of the Maou, however, looking at him with undisguised hurt and anger refused to leave Gwendal's internal eye. He regretted his harsh words, spoken out of embarrassed shame, but it was too late to take them back. Perhaps, he thought, he could ease the sensation of guilt if he was able to simply look at the king, and assure himself that the young ruler was safe and well. He could sort out how to apologize to him later, but for now, he couldn't calm his nerves until he made sure that Yuuri-heika was all right. He had failed in his duty last night—first by not keeping the Maou safe, second by provoking the king's wrath, and third by allowing the young man out of his sight. Determined, therefore, to begin to atone for his errors, Gwendal made his way to the royal chamber. He stood before the door for long minutes, torn as to whether or not to knock. If he awakened the king, then the young man might be even angrier, but if he did nothing, perhaps the Maou would think him completely remiss in his duties. His decision made, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. The thick oak muffled the sound of his fist, but the echo was still clearly audible. There was, however, no answer. Gwendal waited a few moments, then knocked once more. Again his wordless request was met with silence. He tried the knob. The door swung open easily, and he looked inside. The king's chamber appeared as it always did—neat and tidy, with the Maou's few personal possessions eclipsed by the clutter that had always seemed to follow his youngest brother. There was evidence of Greta's habitation as well—a doll and a few hair ribbons, but the bed was neatly made, and appeared to have lacked one particular person overnight. Sure, Yuuri-heika could have arisen early and gone to work, but something about the quiet of the room, the air of gentle disuse simply told Gwendal that Yuuri-heika had not slept there. Perhaps the young man hadn't slept at all. The idea of the young king being too upset to take his rest, of wandering the halls in anger or hurt seemed to slice at Gwendal's heart. He didn't think he could feel worse.

He closed the door and turned on his heel, striding with his usual measured gait back toward his office. He would at least clear his desk of morning work before considering sleeping. He couldn't call it penance—not out loud at least. Still, if Yuuri-heika had spent the night awake and uncomfortable, he would spend the day in a similar fashion. His office was not empty when he arrived. Both Conrad and Gunter were waiting on him, it seemed. They were seated in the two chairs opposite his desk, and had obviously been waiting for some time.

"Where's Yuuri-heika?" he asked, any preamble seemed superfluous.

"He is working..._in his office_," Gunter said, his voice heavy with meaning.

"I…I see." Gwendal swallowed hard and sat down behind his desk. The Maou was angry indeed, he supposed. A quick glance at the conference table supported Gunter's statement. The little area that the Maou had carved out for himself, annexed more accurately, was devoid of any evidence of the king's presence. Everything was gone—his large and unwieldy mug that Greta had made for him, and from which he had his morning coffee, his smaller cup of those writing implements that he called pencils and pens, his datebook, and all the little bits of detritus that Gwendal had come to associate with the young man. _It was all gone_.

"I see he took everything but his work," Gwendal said, finally, his feelings hurt more than he thought possible. On his conference table were three towering stacks of documents, and he recognized some of them as tasks he'd set for the king.

"Actually, those represent the work Yuuri-heika has completed since he returned to the castle." Gunter's eyes were cold, shining like gemstones. His features were placid and his voice was quiet, but Gwendal could feel the anger radiating from the adjutant's body like the vibration from a taut bowstring.

"Completed…?"

"The papers on the right have all been signed, stamped, and are ready for delivery. The center pile requires clarification from you, questions he has after reading them through, and those on the left are read, signed and ready for filing." Conrad said, observing his thumbnail with singular focus. "I arrived only an hour ago or so. I stayed in the city until it was time to see Lady Gilbit off—she is returning to Caloria. When I arrived, the guards told me there had been a carriage accident after you and Yuuri left the theater. So. What happened, Gwendal?"

"After we left the theater, just a few miles from the castle, the carriage axle broke and we crashed. Yuuri-heika chose to return home, escorted by the captain of my guard. I remained behind to investigate the scene. It was sabotage."

Gunter waved his hand in dismissal and irritation. "Of course it was sabotage. It's always something—sabotage of the carriage, kidnapping, impending war—and we always handle that. This will be no different. However, Conrad tells me that by the end of the evening you became the Maou's lover, and then he returns here…in tears. _IN TEARS_, Gwendal! The first thing he does is come in here, throw all of his possessions into a box and carries them to his office, that had a layer of dust over everything at least one inch thick because he never, _NEVER_, uses it, and he has locked himself inside. He has refused to speak to anyone save the young page who carries the documents he hands him, before the ink is even dry, so that he can have them delivered here. So, what I want to know is what _you_ have done to _my_ Yuuri-Heika!"

Gwendal pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and bowed his head. "I might have been a little harsh during our discussion in the carriage."

"You yelled at him." Conrad said. It wasn't a question. "Gwendal, I'm very sorry. Last night was a trial for everyone, you and Yuuri most of all, but he was trying his best to make up for putting you in such an awful position. Couldn't you have spared him—even a little?"

"I lost my temper," Gwendal said softly, his head pounding. "I apologize, Conrad."

"I don't think I'm the one who needs the apology, brother."

Gwendal sighed, his muscles trembling slightly from exhaustion. The tension and the stress from the night before were beginning to catch up with him. The piles of documents on his table mocked him, and his eyes burned.

"I'll speak to him."

Gunter's eyes flashed and he tossed his head. "I hope you can remedy the situation, Gwendal. This is hardly an auspicious beginning to your new relationship."

"It's not as though the Maou wants me, Gunter, so you hardly need worry yourself over my _new_ status. I will, however, do my best to mollify him."

"Idiot." Gunter said, shaking his head.

"What Gunter means," Conrad said quickly, reaching out to hold Gunter's wrist, "is that you shouldn't assume you understand what the Maou is thinking, brother. Just talk to him. If he will speak to you at all."

"I said what I meant the first time," Gunter snorted, his beautiful face hard as he tossed his hair. "You're an idiot."

"Enough!" Gwendal said, his control snapping as he slammed his hands on his desk, making both men start in their chairs. "We are all under a great deal of stress, and I know you are worried for Yuuri-heika's happiness, Gunter, but I will not sit here and allow you to insult me—even if you are my oldest friend. I said I would talk to him and I will. Now, may I have a moment to collect myself, if it's not too damned much to ask!"

--O.o.O—

Shibuya Yuuri, Harajuko Fuuri, twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku sat behind his desk, his elbows propped on the wood top, his fingers laced together, and his forehead resting on his knuckles. His eyes were tired and his shoulders were aching, but he had finally, after almost ten straight hours of tedious work, finished the stack of paperwork that he'd carried with him from Gwendal's office. He still wasn't ready to face the residents of his castle, but at the very least he had accomplished something—no matter how slight. Frowning, he thought about the sheer number of documents he'd just read, reviewed, and signed. He should have been working like this for years, but there always seemed to be some temptation alluring enough to draw him away from the more staid tasks that defined being the Maou. Regardless of what others might think, the vast majority of his job was quite dull.

And he wasn't even sure if he was qualified to do the work. No, he thought, shaking his head. That wasn't true. He knew very well that he was not qualified to be the Maou. He should have stayed on Earth after releasing the Original King from the shackles that had bound his spirit. It was hard to think that his entire existence had been orchestrated simply to accomplish that one goal, but no matter how he deliberated on it, that was still the conclusion he always drew. He wasn't really needed in Shin Makoku—he hadn't even been born or raised there, and he knew the truth even if everyone else was too kind, or too bound by honor to raise the issue—he was not a worthy king. He was the second son of very normal parents, the lesser star in a foreign sky. He was not the intelligent strategist that his older brother had become. Shori had finally taken over as Maou of Earth, and even though Bob remained by his side as his most trusted advisor, Yuuri's sibling had matured into a shining example of what it meant to govern a people as diverse as the Mazoku of Earth. And what had Yuuri become? He sighed and frowned against his hands—nothing better than the young figurehead of a government he didn't even really understand. Long ago, Cheri-sama had once advised him to take his responsibilities seriously—to not fear his duty as Maou, but to embrace his power and his calling, so that he might lead the Mazoku into the future he had so naively envisioned. He knew that she regretted, deeply, her own hesitancy that had allowed her brother's ambition to eclipse her own vision of Shin Makoku's future. She regretted standing idly by, too frightened to contradict her warmongering sibling's military designs, even though she was more inclined to seek peace with their neighbors. He had promised to do his best, and he had done just that. Still, he knew it wasn't enough.

Gwendal was right. He was a naïve, foolish, and useless king. It wasn't as if he actually had any real talent when it came to governing—not that he did that much of it, anyway. Usually, he just listened to Gunter, Gwendal and Conrad, and only contradicted them when his innate sense of justice was crossed. And, if he was honest about that, it was really the Maou inside of him that had the over-developed sense of right and wrong. He had grown, it was true, and his voice had deepened, and he even wore his hair slightly longer than before, but…compared to the demons that made up his cabinet of close advisors, he was nothing more than a kid—a sheltered, cosseted pet. He looked around his office—even the furniture was older than he was, and it at least belonged here. But, where did he belong? For a long time, he had thought being in Shin Makoku was like living out an adventure—it was exciting, thrilling, and had that strange quality of not being quite…real. Then, as time moved forward, as it always does, and he met new people and lost friends, it began to dawn on him that this place, this untouched, to his mind, unspoiled paradise of a world without cell phones, cars, and cities that reached to the sky and belched out their pollution even higher than that…this place was real. The people who dwelled both in and out of the borders of Shin Makoku had lives of their own. They had cares and concerns. The lived, they loved, they struggled and…they died. They were real. And, they deserved a better ruler than an imprudent, headstrong baseball boy with delusions of grandeur. He could name, off the top of his head, at least three men currently living in this castle who would make a better ruler than he did: Gunter, Conrad, and Gwendal. All of them were more qualified, had greater skills, insight and intelligence than he did. Apart from them, he was sure he could name more—beginning with Anissina and ending with Gisela. Even Wolfram would be preferable to himself. Wolfram had at the very least been born here, and he came from the right parentage, and he understood what things were important in politics, where Yuuri simply spent his time wondering why everyone had such difficulty getting along. He didn't understand, even after all this time, all the traditions and customs of this place and he was still getting himself into trouble—as evidenced by the events of the night before.

That little thought brought an image of a very angry, disenchanted Gwendal to his mind, and the Maou found himself crying again. His tears were bitter, tiny drops of self-reproach. He didn't feel sorry for himself, since he considered all of Gwendal's criticisms to be quite justified. He was just…hurt. Of all the people who challenged and pushed him to be better than he was—it was Gwendal and his opinion that Yuuri took most to heart. To know that he was, and always had been, an utter disappointment to the brave general made the young man's heart ache. Gunter had done his best to teach him, over long years, both the ancient and modern history of Shin Makoku. He had proved to be an able tutor and invaluable adjutant, and Yuuri knew without question that Gunter was devoted to him, loved him—and as a consequence, he always seemed to find a way to ease Yuuri's responsibilities, often completing the tasks Yuuri should have been doing himself, just to please his lazy king. And Conrad—what could be said about his Nazukeoya except to say that their relationship had always defied explanation. He had known Yuuri since before he was born and was as close to the king as the Maou's own father—perhaps even closer since Yuuri had begun the vast majority of his time in Shin Makoku—only visiting home rarely. Conrad would always protect him, and would shield him from every enemy, any threat—and possibly even the harsh truth of Yuuri's myriad shortcomings. Wolfram insulted him regularly, but what spurred his restive fiancé was still a mystery to Yuuri. The blonde seemed more concerned with Yuuri's social actions, always criticizing what he wore, how he spoke, or who he talked to on any given day. Yuuri knew he wasn't a wimp, and he had never been unfaithful to his fiancé—not that he even wanted Wolfram as a fiancé, still, he hadn't had the chance to even think about cheating on the jealous demon—so it was irritating, and becoming more so daily, but he didn't take those comments to heart. Gwendal, however, was nothing less than what he appeared. Maybe he was more than he appeared, but certainly nothing less. His tall, handsome, dour General did nothing but tell him the truth—regardless of how hard that truth might be to accept. He had never babied Yuuri, instead, he had insisted that the Maou grow the hell up and learn what it meant to be king. Unfortunately, Yuuri acknowledged, sighing, all of Gwendal's instruction had been wasted. Yuuri was ineffective when it came to all but the most simple of tasks, and although he had grown, as a Maou he was decidedly lacking. Yuuri snorted, wiping at his wet eyes harshly with his fingers. How had it all come to this…? Here he was, sitting in his office, hiding from the one person he wanted to see the most, because even though he knew that Gwendal did not admire him, his stubborn heart refused to consider the General in any other role than that of the perfect man—and seeing him would just hurt too much.

The king's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door. "Just a moment," he said, wiping his eyes and then rubbing his wet hands on his pants. He gathered up the final documents he'd finished reading and stood. His legs were shaky, but he decided he would hand these papers off to Marcus, the young page, and then maybe try to get some sleep—perhaps he'd feel a little better after some rest. He opened the door, his greeting dying on his lips as he saw Gwendal, looking as tired as he, himself, felt.

"Heika," his General said, scowling. "I—"

"I'm sorry, Gwendal," Yuuri said quickly, shoving the sheaf of parchment into the tall man's hands. "I meant to get these to you before. But, that should catch us up."

"Your eyes are red." Gwendal hadn't even bothered to look at the work Yuuri had done.

Yuuri stood there, stupidly. He had no idea what to say.

"And…you're shaking. You haven't slept at all, have you?"

Yuuri looked down, unsure of what to say. Gwendal's frown deepened.

"You will make yourself sick, Heika. You must think of your health."

"I'm fine." Yuuri blinked rapidly, trying to stem the flow of fresh tears. He was prepared, he thought, for Gwendal's stern chastisements, but he wasn't prepared for the gentle touch of Gwendal's knuckles grazing over his cheek.

"You're not _fine_ at all."

Yuuri hesitated. The somber demon in front of him seemed…worried, and he didn't know how to respond to that. Gwendal was never gentle—at least never with anyone over the age of ten.

"You were right—everything you said was right." Yuuri said.

"No," Gwendal replied, staring down at Yuuri with an expression the Maou couldn't decipher. "I spoke out of turn last night, Heika. It was wrong of me to lose my temper. You have my apology."

Yuuri heard a strange ringing in his ears, and his field of vision narrowed even as he saw golden spots that seemed to dance in the air. He felt himself sway forward. He didn't quite faint, but the air around him warped and he felt his balance slipping. Before his knees buckled, he heard the rustle of paper as the parchment hit the stone floor, scattering, and Gwendal's strong arms caught him, holding him up while he caught his breath.

"You're exhausted, Heika." Gwendal shifted slightly, and before Yuuri could object, his feet were off the ground and he was being carried away from his office, held tightly to Gwendal's chest.

"What were you thinking," the tall demon whispered softly.

"I just…wanted to show you that I'm not…the worst Maou ever." Yuuri still felt strange and breathing was becoming more difficult. He was tired, suddenly wiped out, and he no longer had the strength to fight off his tears.

"Shhh," Gwendal said, his lips very close to Yuuri's ear, making the boy shiver. He didn't dare look the man in the eye, certain he'd see the condemnation and disappointment he feared in his general's expression.

"You are a good Maou, Yuuri-heika. The best Maou. Forgive my insensitive comments. I…I…am not good with words."

Yuuri did dare to look up then, and to his surprise, Gwendal's cheeks were lightly pink with blush, and his blue eyes were fixed on the corridor in front of them. What did Gwendal have to be embarrassed about?

"But what you said was right, Gwendal. I am thoughtless, and I'm reckless, and I don't pay attention to my work, and I never listen when I should, and I just act on impulse—"

"Heika!" Gwendal exclaimed, his voice still soft, though fierce. "You have the rare ability to see people's hearts. You have always seen the good in others, even when they cannot see it themselves, and it is your belief in people—in their innate worth that sometimes makes them exhibit those qualities. It is a rare gift. Don't, please, upset yourself this way."

"But…what you said—"

"Don't listen to everything I say!" Gwendal grunted as he kicked open a door, and Yuuri recognized his own room.

He turned Gwendal's words over in his mind, too tired to resist when his General set him down on the bed, then knelt in front of him and pulled off his boots. He shrugged out of his jacket after Gwendal made short work of the buttons, and he almost opened his mouth to point out that he could manage the rest himself, but Gwendal silenced him with a look. The older man pulled back the covers, waited for Yuuri to wriggle beneath them, then tucked him in. His eyes felt scratched and itchy. He started to rub, them, but Gwendal stilled his hands, pulling them gently until Yuuri rested them at his sides. He kept them closed and listened as Gwendal moved around the room. He heard the sound of water splashing into the basin. A few moments later, he felt a cool, damp cloth press against his tired, swollen eyes.

"Better?" Gwendal asked.

Yuuri nodded, unable to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat. How mortifying to be in this position. He felt weak as a kitten, and the fact that it was Gwendal who had to see him like this made him feel ashamed. Hot tears welled up again and leaked out from beneath his lashes. He felt the brush of warm fingers against his face.

"Please, Heika, don't cry." Gwendal's voice was rough, though not with anger. Yuuri couldn't name the sound.

"I'm sorry. You must think I'm so weak." Yuuri pressed his own hands over his eyes, thankful he couldn't see his general.

"I think you've overworked yourself, Heika. And I think you should sleep. Rest now."

"Why…" Yuuri choked, cleared his throat and tried again. "Why are you being nice to me? You don't even like me."

Gwendal didn't reply immediately, and Yuuri found that the lure of his warm bed was too much to resist. He fell asleep before his General could answer.

--O.o.O—

Although it required very little of his own Majutsu to operate them, the ever-steaming hot baths in Blood Pledge Castle had always been one of Gwendal's secret triumphs. Several years after Yuuri-heika had arrived in Shin Makoku, he had worked with a builder to renovate the small, cramped bathing areas, linking them all together in a series of tubs, separated by ornate screens, that resembled small ponds as opposed to simple, stone bathing pits. It gave the area an open, relaxed feeling—and the steam rising to the vaulted ceilings also worked in concert with the heavy screens to provide privacy. It was rare, in fact, for anyone using the baths to run into anyone else—unless such an assignation was intentional. And, by tacit agreement, everyone had staked out their own, special areas that had become somewhat off-limits to anyone else, unless an invitation was extended.

Sinking into the hot, fresh water, Gwendal slowly relaxed, sliding down the side of the tub until he was submerged. Bathing was his favorite personal pleasure, one that he hadn't shared since he was a young mazoku. He could soak for hours, happily, though his schedule didn't allow for that. But, on days like this one—when his life was slowly upending into some new crisis—he did allow himself a few long, stolen moments in the water. It would have been better, he thought, had he been a fish. Fish, after all, weren't very social, and they couldn't talk so they never shoved their gigantic feet (which they also didn't have) so far in their mouths that they were going to shit boot leather for a month. No, fish had a good life—a simple life. And he supposed it really did defy logic that he had been so successful, over so many years, as a diplomat, considering that he could often get his point across in State-sanctioned negotiations, but he almost never said the right thing when it came to the people he cared about most. Out of everyone, only Gunter had ever taken the time to try and hear the meaning behind the words he spoke. And, now, even Gunter wasn't speaking to him. It had been several hours since he'd delivered Yuuri-heika to his room, but the image of the king—broken and exhausted floated through his mind every time he closed his eyes, and the words the young ruler spoke…_You don't even like me_. How could he think that…when it was as far from the truth as the east was from the west?

Allowing his head to break the water, Gwendal rested his head against the edge of the tub, supporting his neck on a rolled towel and let his mind drift, concentrating only on the sensation of hot water against his skin.

"How are you feeling now, Heika?"

Gwendal's eyes snapped open. Through the screen he heard Yozak's deep voice, and the sounds of rustling clothes.

"I…I am a little tired, still, but I'm ok." The Maou's voice still sounded weak.

"I still think you should go straight back to bed after your bath." Conrad's voice.

"No," Yuuri-heika said quietly. "I just need to clean up, then I have to get back to work. I accomplished a lot yesterday, but I want to clean my desk off."

"Why this sudden urge to become a paper-pusher, Heika?" Yozak was laughing. Gwendal could imagine his smirk. "It can't be that you have come to enjoy it!"

"It's…It's just something I have to do. I've been relying on Lord von Voltaire far too much, and Gunter, and you guys, too. I really should make the effort to do my own work."

"Not at the expense of everything else in your life, Yuuri. Everything in balance, after all."

The sounds of splashing as bodies hit the water.

"Lord von Voltaire?" Yozak added, questioning. "I would have thought that after last night you and his Excellency were even closer than before, and you were already on a first name basis."

Gwendal had to strain to hear Yuuri's whisper. "No. I was on a first name basis with him. He won't…he won't use my name. Out of respect, I feel I should give him the distance he wants."

"He doesn't hate you, Heika." Conrad said, reasonably. "He is perfectly comfortable with you using his name. Gwendal is merely a bit more…formal than you may be used to, that's all."

"I guess. Still, I don't like to push myself where I'm not wanted."

"Bocchan…? Didn't you see his face last night?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Yuuri said softly. The sounds of water pouring now—someone was washing his hair, or someone else's. "I saw a lot of it—more than you, Yozak."

"Hasn't he…spoken to you yet?" Conrad asked.

"Yeah. Not that I did anything other than make an even bigger ass of myself. I nearly passed out on him and he was forced to carry me back to my room. I swear, I'm never at my best around him."

"Forced? That seems a little harsh, Yuuri."

"No, Conrad. It's not. He was kind enough not to let me fall, and he put me to bed, but it's not like he wanted to be near me. I guess either you or Gunter yelled at him or something this morning when he got home?"

"There was no yelling, I assure you, Heika."

"It's Yuuri, Nazukeoya. You of all people should know that."

"Come here, Bocchan. I'll scrub your back."

Gwendal held his breath and considered his options. If he stayed a moment longer he would be forced to endure listening to a conversation that was never meant for his ears. However, if he tried to get out of the bath and leave, the sound of water sluicing off him would give him away—and the trio on the other side of the screen would be alerted to his presence. Considering Yuuri-heika's already dismal opinion of him, that option seemed to be the worse. No. No matter what was said, he was going to have to stay. He bit back a sigh, and stilled so that he made no sound.

"Yuuri…what do you intend to do, then? You must face Gwendal some time, and now that he has been named as your official lover, it is expected that you two will spend time together."

The silence was more deafening than an explosion.

"But…that was just to save his reputation, Conrad" Yuuri-heika squeaked. The boy cleared his throat. "I mean, no one is going to be watching us, right? Believe me, Gwendal isn't about to seek out my company."

"I don't know, Bocchan. His Excellency is very peculiar when it comes to customs. He has always adhered to tradition, and I don't think he'd be pleased to set the rumor-mill in motion together. You acknowledged him, in front of a pretty large group of people. If you two don't spend time together, people will suspect something, and most likely pity him—and that would probably bother him most of all. Besides, don't you like his Excellency? I always thought you did."

"Of course I like him!" the Maou said sharply. "I mean, I've always admired him." The boy's voice softened and Gwendal felt his heart begin to pound. "It's just…he doesn't like me very much, and I don't want to make him do something he doesn't want to do."

"I don't understand why you think that, Yuuri," Conrad said. "Gwendal has a high opinion of you." Gwendal nodded. That was true.

"No, he doesn't." Gwendal frowned. That wasn't true at all.

"Well, even so…you're still going to have to spend some time with him, Kiddo. The entire kingdom already thinks you two are going at it like sandbears in the rainy season."

"What!" Yuuri-heika's voice echoed off the chamber ceiling. "Gwendal and I are _not_ having sex…and we're not going to _have_ sex…_NOT EVER_."

Gwendal didn't know why, since it was the answer he expected from the Maou, but his heart still seemed to stop. He had been rejected, before he'd even had the chance to…to what, exactly? He had never really, seriously entertained thoughts of seducing the Maou. First, he was engaged to his own brother, and second, there was the age difference, and third…he was so cute and adorable that even if Gwendal had been inclined to try and get closer to the king, he knew he would only end up tongue-tied and stupid. Yuuri-heika was young, vivacious and so very full of life and hope…there was no way he'd ever be interested in someone as predictable and pedantic as Gwendal knew himself to be. Still, before the evening of disaster, the king had once called him sexy…and maybe that counted for a little something?

"Whatever you say, heika," Yozak replied, his mirth still evident in his voice.

"No one is saying you and Gwendal have to become lovers right away, Yuuri." Conrad's reasonable tone, for some reason, set Gwendal's teeth on edge. He really didn't need his younger brother speaking on his behalf.

"Still, it would be a slight to his honor if you were to ignore him now. There are, after all, several traditional duties that a lover performs for the Maou that a fiancé cannot. The only person who could ever usurp his place completely would be a husband or wife—unless you dismiss him, of course."

Gwendal held his breath. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. With everything that had happened, he hadn't given consideration to the things Conrad was talking about. But, his little brother was right. He was meant to perform several tasks for the King now, several intimate tasks—regardless of lovemaking, which was, clearly, not on the cards.

"What…what are you talking about, exactly?" Yuuri-heika's voice was wary, suspicious.

"Well, let's just say this is the last bath we'll be taking together for a while, Kiddo," Yozak said, merrily. "And you have to eat breakfast with him, too."

"I eat breakfast with him now…all of you."

"Not anymore," Yozak sang out. "Now you have a private breakfast with His Excellency."

"He's going to hate that." Yuuri-heika sounded so sad that Gwendal was tempted to get out of his bath, thump the spy on the head, and apologize all over himself.

"No, he won't. And perhaps you could turn it into a planning meeting or something, until you're comfortable," Conrad offered. "Also, as his lover, you have entrée into his chambers whenever you want, and you'll probably want to share a bed at least twice a week. That is enough to keep the talk down, and not so much that bets will start as to whether or not you will give Wolfram his congé."

"I told you already, Gwendal and I aren't having sex."

"I said share a bed, Yuuri. I meant sleeping, nothing more. No one has to know that you aren't lovers."

"I always thought people tried to hide the fact that they _ARE_ having sex, not hide the fact that they _AREN'T_!"

"One last thing, Bocchan." Gwendal had, in his imagination, gone well past thumping and into fantasies of outright trouncing his best secret agent. "You two will have to make the traditional pilgrimage to the temple at Doone."

"What is that?"

"The temple is the place of worship for the fertility goddess, Shay. No one really worships her anymore, but it is a romantic tradition that all lovers, especially those of the nobility, make a journey to the temple and leave an offering for the Goddess in order that their union should be blessed. It takes about four days on horseback, and it doesn't have to be done right away, though, it would look best if it were done soon—schedule permitting." Conrad said.

"So…what you're saying is…I have to wake up every morning, have breakfast with a demon who doesn't really like me—all by ourselves. Twice a week, we have to sleep in the same bed…and unless I want to reek, we have to bathe together, and, to top it all off, we have to take a mini-vacation to a romantic destination. Is that about it?"

"That covers it, kiddo." Yozak was snorting he was laughing so hard.

"You realize, of course, that Wolfram is going to have a nuclear meltdown."

"I don't know what that means, Yuuri, but I don't think it's good." Conrad said. "And you're right, he's not going to be pleased so you might want to get this worked out with Gwendal before Wolfram arrives back home."

"Has anyone asked Gwendal if he's ok with this?"

_I'm just fine with it_, the angry General wanted to shout. But he didn't.

"He already knows what is expected of him, heika." Conrad replied. "Don't look so worried, he's not going to eat you."

"Yeah, at least not until you ask him…really nicely!"

"Yozak!" Yuuri cried out.

Gwendal heard the sounds of splashing and he could only hope that the Maou was drowning the orange-haired troublemaker. Still, they were loud enough that Gwendal was able to slip out of the bath without attracting attention to himself. He padded on silent feet until he could make his escape—clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Returning to his own chambers, he didn't even bother to dress, but stood, staring out the window and considered his options. There was no way out of this—at least not on his part. The king didn't want him, and that much was clear. He was surprised by how much the knowledge actually hurt. There was no reason for it to, of course, but then, he had never even allowed himself the option of considering such a situation before. Still, Yozak had been right about one thing—Gwendal was a demon very much bound by tradition. It was how he had been raised and how he had lived his entire life. He was unable to break the tie that now bound him to the young ruler, but he wouldn't object if the Maou decided, ultimately, to turn away from him. He could retire, quietly, from public life and return to simply being the head for the von Voltaire family. There was, perhaps, a measure of honor left in that. He was not able, however, to initiate such an action. If he were to do so, then he would be seen as both ungrateful and disrespectful. No matter how difficult the next days might be, therefore, he would simply find a way to cope. Gwendal glanced at his bed. In all the years he'd lived at Blood Pledge Castle, he'd never shared that bed with anyone. He could imagine, however, what it might be like to wake with Yuuri-heika next to him. The ease with which his mind supplied just such a picture was shocking. Had he had these thoughts without even being aware of them? It seemed unlikely, and yet, the prospect of spending time with the Maou was not onerous. No, his hands were tied and there was nothing he could do but wait.

Sitting down in the chair near the window, Gwendal reached for his knitting basket. He took up his needles and began to knit, letting the repetitive motion of his hands, the familiar feeling of yarn running through his fingers, ease his troubled thoughts. Gwendal had never found himself in this position before. He was a man of action, a military commander, and his word was law in almost every aspect of his life. But, now, he could do nothing more than sit quietly, patiently, and wait for the Maou to make the decision that would ultimately map out the path for his future.

He didn't like it. He didn't like it one little bit.

* * *

_Ok, and there's chapter two. I've decided that in order to do this story justice, it's going to take a while to get Yuuri and Gwendal on the same page. I could rush the scenes along but I don't think Gwendal can move any faster than he already is. I was sure I'd be able to talk about Gwendal's past in this chapter, but, it's not time for that yet. So, I've decided to let the scenes unfold in their own time and at their own pace. Consequently, I hope I've not frustrated too many of you. However, that being said, I broke this chapter up, and I already know that chapter three will introduce Wolfram again, and before that, Gwendal and Yuuri will reach a preliminary understanding. Poor Gwendal…he really got the ass end of the deal today. I'll try and update by the end of the week on this one…I don't want to leave my favorite General languishing too long. Right, so, I'm home from work and I need a nap. After that, I'll answer all the mail in my box. Thanks for reading, and feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think so far…And, for those who were concerned…no, I don't think Yuuri is likely to let Gwendal twist in the wind for too long. Thanks again and I'll be seeing you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Ok, Chapter three is here. This, I suppose, is best described as pivot chapter—the first hints of Yuuri beginning the conquest of my favorite recluse. I'm working as quickly as I can on this one, in between long naps so I can make up for my current level of sleep deprivation. I'm answering the rest of your reviews tonight—but I want to send a special thank you to those who have reviewed anonymously. I really do enjoy reading what you think might happen. Gwendal is under-represented in my humble opinion as far as the anime is concerned, so I hope I can spend some more time bringing out his character as it appears to me. Thanks again for all your reviews, the usual disclaimer goes here, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page…Oh, and the title of this chapter comes from a very famous poem—you probably all know it, but if you haven't read it—google and read, if you're so inclined!_

* * *

**Chapter Three: If all the world and love were young…**

"Hi Gunter, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Gunter von Kleist looked up from his book to see the Maou hovering in the doorway to the library. His beautiful hair was damp, his lovely skin flushed from a hot bath…but his Maou's black eyes were troubled.

"Come in, Heika," he said, softly. "What's on your mind?"

He kept himself still, though he had to fight every instinct that screamed for him to go and comfort his king. There was little he could do, he knew, to ease the young man's present distress, but as devoted as he was to Yuuri-heika, Gunter hated to see even so much as the slightest frown marring his lips.

"I was just talking with Conrad and Yozak." The king sat down next to Gunter on the window seat and rested his forearms on his legs. "They were telling me about what I'm expected to do with Gwendal now—you know the customs and things. Still, I wanted to talk to you about it."

Gunter nodded. He was pleased, first, to see Yuuri out of his office and beginning to interact with the castle residents again, but he didn't like the sad tone of the king's voice. Taking a lover should be a joyous event in the young man's life, but the Maou sounded as if he was asking advice on which leg he should have amputated.

"Well, I suppose they told you the basics—breakfast, bathing, sleeping arrangements?"

"Yeah, they talked about that. They said we have to go on a journey to the temple of doom…"

"Doone, Heika," Gunter corrected, gently.

"Yeah, that." Yuuri sighed. "But I bet there's more. Somehow, there always is."

"Heika…" Gunter put his book to the side and clasped his hands together in front of him to prevent him from reaching out to take the young king in his arms. Wasn't there any way he could try to explain that these circumstances weren't a death sentence? "Yuuri," he began again. "If you are so adamantly opposed to Gwendal, you may dismiss him. He won't fight you."

"It's not that." The king looked up suddenly. "I just don't want to do anything to make the situation worse. I mean, I haven't really talked to Gwendal about this at all, but if he wants out, then I can make that happen, I guess. The whole reason I did what I did was to…correct the error I made. I never meant to hurt his feelings…well, I didn't hurt those, I guess…but I never meant to make him look foolish either. Yozak told me that doing what I did…kissing his hand like that, would fix everything. I guess it did, but, I…I don't know what to think. I feel awful though. He was so angry."

"He wasn't angry, Heika."

Yuuri shook his head quickly. "You weren't there, Gunter. You didn't hear him."

"I didn't have to be there. He wasn't angry. He was embarrassed."

The king paused. "What…what makes you say that?"

"I've known Gwendal for a long time, Heika. A very long time. I suppose you don't really know how shy he is, do you? He was embarrassed and didn't know what else to do, so he growled and yelled…right?"

The Maou nodded again.

"Gwendal is extremely private, but I'm sure you know that after all these years in Shin Makoku. He doesn't like to make a spectacle of himself, and he really is, for all his strength and courage, very shy. I'm sure everyone staring at him, and being the center of attention was uncomfortable for him. He felt threatened so he lashed out—unfortunately, and unforgivably, he took his anger out on you."

"Gunter!" The king gasped. "Are you still angry with him? I…I knew you were last night, but…please, don't tell me you two are fighting!"

"Simply because Lord von Voltaire is unable to express his more tender emotions appropriately is no excuse for him to take his frustration out on you, Heika. You are the Maou-Heika, and we are your subjects." Gunter folded his arms over his chest.

"Please don't be upset with him," Yuuri-heika said, reaching out and prying one of Gunter's hands away from his chest and holding it tight. "I was trying to fix things last night, and I don't want all this…tension. He…he might be a little lonely right now, and I bet he could use a friend. Gunter…"

The Maou's voice drifted into silence as the young man stood up and began to pace. "I never really thought about it before, but, I've always got Conrad and Yozak, and you to help me…but apart from you, and maybe Anissina, I've never seen Gwendal seek anyone else out. He's sort of…above that, isn't he? I mean, all these years, I've been afraid of him and I bet most people are. Does he…does he have many friends?"

"Not many," Gunter conceded.

"Then…then we can't abandon him, no matter what. Promise me, Gunter. Promise me you will make up with him and help me, ok?"

Gunter smiled inwardly. He knew Yuuri-heika's innate sense of compassion would eventually resurface. And perhaps it was his own romantic nature coming out, but he was certain he saw the nascent spark of affection for the General in the king's tone. The young man was very quick to defend his new lover, after all. Gunter let his face soften just a fraction. "I will speak to him if you desire it, Heika. But…what do you mean by _help you_?"

"Gwendal isn't interested in me, not like a lover, I know that—"

"Heika, you keep saying things like _Gwendal doesn't want me_, and _Gwendal isn't interested in me_…how do you know this to be true?"

"I—I'm pretty sure I'm right, Gunter. He doesn't act like he does."

"I'll leave that for you to figure out, then." Gunter smiled. "And what about you, Heika…do you want Gwendal as your lover?"

"I…I don't know!" Yuuri-heika's whispered answer, coupled with his wide eyes, gave Gunter another small glimmer of hope. Better than anyone, the adjutant was able to sense the feelings and emotions of the people around him. There was a reason, after all, that all the maids came to him for fortune-telling, and he rarely disappointed. But, in the past year especially, he had begun to notice a slight shift in the King and the country's Chief Military Advisor. It was so slight he doubted either of the men in question recognized it themselves, but a bond had been slowly forming…so slowly, in fact, that in five years the King and the General had only embraced once, on the Maou's birthday, and never even kissed. The tension between them, however, had grown by leaps and bounds and Gunter thought progress was being made the night of Princess Greta's party. It was only undone, though, by the events of the night before.

"But…maybe I could be his friend." Yuuri said, blushing. "It's a start, right?""

Gunter nodded, finally grinning. "I think that's a good idea."

"Well, you better begin by telling me how this whole tradition got started. I mean, official lovers? That's a new one, even for me."

"There really is good reason for the tradition, Heika." Gunter stood up and began to search the book shelves. He found the volume he wanted and handed it to the king. "You can read more about it in-depth of course, but, the historical precedent is simply understood. Many marriages between the nobility in Shin Makoku are arranged matches. Do you not have anything similar on Earth?"

"Yes, but it's not so common nowadays." The Maou scratched his head. "Now it isn't even necessary that a couple marry or anything, but, yes, there are still arranged marriages."

"Then you probably can see where there is no assurance that affection will ever exist between two people basically contracted to one another in marriage. Demons live a long, long time, Heika. Can you imagine a life so long without any hope of tender affection? Taking an official lover, therefore, will serve to satisfy a person's desire for love and companionship when such feelings do not exist in the marriage relationship itself. Your fiancé, or perhaps your spouse, will be expected to attend the more formal functions of State, but…your emotional needs would be met, traditionally, by the person you choose to be your own lover."

"I see." Yuuri-heika sighed. "So…I'm not married, though. And it's still ok to have a lover?"

"It is for you because you are the Maou and you are engaged."

"I'm not sure how to ask this, but…can a person marry his lover? I mean, what if it turned out that you're both single and you want to marry later?"

"It has happened in some cases. For example, the seventh Maou's husband died, leaving her a widow. She married her lover, formally sealing their relationship with the bonds of matrimony, and it is said they lived very happily together."

"I have the feeling this is going to be very complicated." The young man frowned again. "Poor Gwendal."

"Why _Poor Gwendal_?" Gunter asked. "Have you asked him how he feels?"

"Not…Not really." The Maou was blushing in that adorable way he had and Gunter finally gave in and embraced him, hugging him tight.

"Then you should speak to him, Heika. Before you assume you know how he feels, talk to him."

"Do you think…maybe…" The king broke off and Gunter gave him another squeeze.

"I think you need to talk to him."

--O.o.O—

Yuuri stood in front of Gwendal's door, his small burst of courage having failed him. For a moment, while he'd been talking to Gunter, he actually felt like this was something he could do. He was ready, he thought, to face Gwendal and try to work things out, but now he wasn't so sure. Still, the idea of his General, alone and unhappy, plucked at Yuuri's heartstrings. He had to find out what the demon was thinking, and…what he wanted to do next. So, he knocked on the door and waited.

When it opened, to reveal an unsmiling Gwendal clad only in a towel, Yuuri swallowed hard. He hadn't expected to be faced with so much…naked male. He lost his train of thought completely.

"Did you want something, Heika?" Gwendal asked.

"Yeah," Yuuri replied, his voice barely registering above a whisper. He couldn't help staring. Gwendal's shoulders, seemed even broader without their usual green covering, his well-muscled chest and abdomen a witness to all the years spent in rigorous military training, tapered down to lean, narrow hips. Yuuri was reminded, again, of a marble statue in a museum. He had known, of course, that the general was devastatingly handsome—his face and stunning eyes were unmistakable, but the rest of him…? Yuuri swallowed again. He was never going to be able to speak when his stomach was fluttering so strangely. Maybe he should have eaten first.

"Is something wrong, Heika?" Gwendal asked and Yuuri came out of his stupor, blushing when he realized he'd been staring at the demon like a starving man eyes a steak.

"No…Nothing's wrong, exactly." Yuuri ran his hand through his hair. "I was…I was just hoping we could talk. I mean, I think we have a lot to talk about…don't we?"

The tall man stepped back, and turned, leaving the door open for Yuuri to follow. It had been a long time since Yuuri had been in Gwendal's room. The last time had been, in fact, when he was still just a raw youth, after they'd returned from their mateki-hunt. Yuuri hesitated, then closed the door. Privacy, he thought, remembering what Gunter said. Gwendal was a private man. His general was standing by his window, arms folded over his chest, looking out onto the grounds below. His shoulders were stiff, and his back ramrod straight—for all that he was only wearing a towel, he still looked as intimidating as ever. Usually, though, whenever Yuuri talked to him, Gwendal held eye contact easily. Now, he seemed unwilling to face the young Maou, and Yuuri's first thought was that he was angry, but after he took a moment to consider his own feelings, Yuuri wondered if Gwendal was as uneasy as he was.

"I've really cut a hog in the ass this time, haven't I?" Yuuri said, borrowing an old earth phrase.

Whatever he had been expecting Yuuri to say, that, clearly wasn't it. Gwendal turned, his expression puzzled. "What…what would maiming the hind quarters of an innocent pig have to do with our…dilemma, Heika? What a barbaric expression! Who would hurt a little pig?"

Yuuri couldn't help smiling just a little. "It's just a figure of speech, Gwendal. It means, I really messed things up this time, and I'm sorry."

"Heika, if you wish to end this relationship between us," Gwendal paused, his chest moving in the most enticing way as he took a deep breath. "Then I understand."

Yuuri looked away, concentrating on anything other than the very distracting man in front of him—did he really just think of Gwendal as _enticing_? His eye fell on Gwendal's knitting basket, and the long length of knitted yarn spilling from it. It didn't appear to be an animal, more like a scarf, and it was apparently new. Then Yuuri noticed the position of Gwendal's chair, saw the red marks on his fingers. He had been sitting in here for God knows how long, too preoccupied even to dress, and knitting like mad—Yuuri had been keeping a surreptitious eye on Gwendal's projects for years, and he knew that this scarf-like thing was a new project. Suddenly, he felt like a private investigator. Maybe, he would need to look for more clues like these in order to understand what the older, nearly silent man was thinking.

But, that was a subject best considered at another time. Right now, he was going to have to talk, no matter how difficult the conversation proved to be. "I want to know how you feel, Gwendal. I don't want you to feel like you have to do this."

"I am unable to break this understanding, Heika. You must dismiss me…"

"That's not what I'm asking," Yuuri said, his frustration beginning to show. "I'm asking how you feel, Gwendal. I'm asking what you want. What _YOU_ want. I care about you…and I want you to be happy."

"Happy…?" Gwendal asked, looking at Yuuri as though he'd just landed from Mars. Really, was the concept so foreign to the dour mazoku? The king sighed.

"Yes_. Happy_. I did…what I did, because I didn't want you to be damaged by my stupidity. I know I'm the last person you'd probably choose for a lover, I mean, you can have anyone you want…but, I did ask around a little bit, and I think this could work, if we try to be friends. Still, I'm not going to force you into something you don't want. Believe me, I know all about how that works."

Yuuri's sudden frown seemed to move the taller demon to action. Gwendal turned fully, the expression in his dark blue eyes was knowing. "You mean your engagement to Wolfram."

"Yeah," Yuuri said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I didn't know what I was doing—it was an accident. I guess everyone knows that, but, I've tried to stick by the tradition, you know? It's like we say on earth—you make your bed, you lie in it. You know what I mean?"

Gwendal nodded.

"…And I guess what I'm saying is that I understand what it's like to be in a situation you didn't choose for yourself. I wouldn't want that for you, because…because your feelings matter, Gwendal. Your feelings matter to me, and if you don't want to be tied to me in this way, then I'll find the right way to release you. I know your reputation is really important to you—"

"I don't mind, Heika," Gwendal said, cutting him off. "I am not objecting to my status in your life. I know you were not aware of all the implications."

"Really," Yuuri asked, stunned. "But…you'd have to spend time with me!"

Gwendal turned his back again, and Yuuri bit his lip. His general had four scars that ran in jagged lines from his left shoulder across his back down to his right hip. He knew that very few people had ever seen Gwendal's scars, and he wondered, not for the first time, how he had received such an injury—and what other scars the man might be hiding.

"I…would not object to fulfilling my duties as your lover, Heika."

"So…breakfast, and taking a trip, and all that other stuff…? You're ok with all of it?"

The general nodded.

"This is going to cause problems for you with Wolfram, though. Gwendal, I don't want to make things hard on you."

"I am well able to handle my little brother, Heika."

"I'm not," Yuuri muttered.

Gwendal turned again, his eyes darker than usual. "I won't allow Wolfram's first reaction—especially if it is one of anger—to harm you, Heika."

Yuuri felt the blush creep over his cheeks again. He could hear a sort of promise in Gwendal's words, a tone of commitment that he wasn't used to in the somber man's voice. He could also see the lines around Gwendal's eyes more clearly than usual. Yuuri blushed brighter—here he was running his mouth when it was almost definite that Gwendal hadn't had any sleep at all.

"You must be so tired," he whispered.

"A…a little," Gwendal admitted after a lengthy silence.

"Ok, I'll let you get some sleep." Yuuri turned to go. "We can sort out the details of this later."

"I wasn't planning on sleeping, Heika," Gwendal said before he reached the door. "If you wait a moment, I'll dress and accompany you."

"No, you need to rest," Yuuri objected. He was looking up at Gwendal and if he hadn't been watching his eyes carefully so that he was, if the truth be known, prevented from staring at the gorgeous man's one-towel-drop-away-from-naked body, then Yuuri might have missed the slight flicker of sadness cross Gwendal's face. But, what was he supposed to do about it?

"I was only going to take a little walk anyway," Yuuri said quickly. "It's a warm afternoon, and you should probably sleep, but walking can be restful, too. Would you…would you like to come with me?"

"If you would like me to, Heika." Gwendal's voice was flat, and he turned his face away just a little.

Yuuri almost smacked his forehead in frustration. Of all the people he knew, on earth and in this world, Gwendal had always been the most difficult for him to read. He was really trying his best, but the man didn't make things easy. But, he reasoned, they were apparently going to spend time together now, and despite the pounding of his heart that he felt whenever he was near his General, Yuuri was going to have to find a way to bridge the communication _chasm_ between them. He took a deep breath, and tried to hold on to Gunter's advice. The adjutant had told him that underneath everything, Gwendal was shy. Well, Yuuri understood something about that particular feeling, too.

"I'd like it, Gwendal. A lot." Yuuri realized as he spoke the words that they were absolutely true. He did want to be with Gwendal right now, more than anyone else. He couldn't explain why, but he was drawn to him. Probably because they were stuck in the same little boat smack in the middle of an ocean of uncertainty.

"Then, I'll just be a minute."

Yuuri took Gwendal's place by the window and stared, determinedly at the horizon, allowing the older man the time he needed to shrug into his clothes. Yuuri heard the rustlings and snapping of trousers, shirt and jacket. He figured it was safe to look, and as he turned Gwendal made a little sound, clearly frustrated. He was tugging a stiff-bristled brush through his tangled hair.

"Is everything ok?" Yuuri asked.

"I…I only had a quick bath this morning, early." Gwendal replied, through his teeth.

"You really are tired, aren't you?" Yuuri whispered. "I guess you forgot to condition your hair?"

Gwendal gave a sharp nod.

"Ok, just wait right there. This is at least something I know how to fix!"

Before Gwendal could reply, Yuuri dashed out of the room and sped toward Greta's chamber. Gwendal's chambers were one floor below his own, and Greta's were only two doors down from the one he shared, albeit unwillingly, with Wolfram., so, it took Yuuri very little time to run to her room, grab what he was looking for and return to Gwendal's door.

"I'm back," he said, panting, as he burst back into Gwendal's room. The general didn't say anything, but stared at him bewildered.

"Ok, here," Yuuri said, handing Gwendal the plastic spray bottle, shaped like a fish.

The General turned it over in his hands, his eye twitching slightly as he studied it. "What is it, Heika?"

"Oh, it's detangler, for your hair. My mother got it for Greta, and I brought it from Earth." Yuuri scratched the back of his neck lightly. "See, you spray it on, and it sort of helps make your hair slippery so the knots come out easier. Greta's hair is short, but it's still very tangly. She used to cry all the time when we tried to brush it, but this stuff really helps. I can…I can show you, if you like."

Gwendal handed him the bottle, and sat down on the chair. Yuuri stood behind him and started to spritz his hair with the solution.

"It smells…nice." Gwendal sounded hesitant.

"Yeah, that's an apple scent. Pretty popular on earth, I guess. Hand me the brush?"

He took the hairbrush that Gwendal offered, and began to work his way through the stubborn knots in the tall man's dark hair. Yuuri was glad they weren't facing the mirror, because then Gwendal would have been able to see how deeply he was blushing. This had always been one of his secret desires—to feel the rough silkiness of Gwendal's hair between his fingers. He had always admired the grim General's flowing mane, and once or twice, he'd been brushed with Gwendal's pony-tail or bangs when they were working on paperwork from time to time, but he'd always just wanted to touch it.

Yuuri was careful to gently unsnarl the tangles, and he was finished altogether too fast for his liking. He had hoped to spend a little longer with his hands buried in the warm, silky mass. He leaned over Gwendal's shoulder slightly, hefting his hair in his hands, and pulling it back for its usual style. He could see Gwendal's eyes were closed and his mouth looked…different. It struck Yuuri suddenly that Gwendal was smiling—only a little bit. It was nothing more than the tiniest quirk of the corners of his mouth in an upward curve—so subtle it was hard to see, but, still he was smiling, and Yuuri's heart warmed. He pulled the brush through Gwendal's hair a few more times in long, even strokes. When he was satisfied that it was tangle free, and every hair lay in smooth alignment, shining in the sunlight, Yuuri asked the general for his hair tie. He secured it, making Gwendal's trademark pony-tail, and marveled at all the shades of grey, some strands were so dark they were almost black. Yuuri had always found his own hair to be very common, somewhat boring and plain, but Gwendal's hair was a lot like the man himself—a single color on first glance, but with many subtle variations when you looked a little closer.

"All done," he said, softly, laying the brush aside.

"Thank you," Gwendal said, his usually stern voice quiet. He opened his eyes. "Do you still want to walk with me?"

"Yeah," Yuuri said, smiling. "Let's go."

--O.o.O—

Gwendal slowed his pace so that he didn't outdistance the Maou, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked and tried to sort out his confused thoughts. He had been certain after what he overheard in the baths that Yuuri-heika had arrived at his door that afternoon to reject him—kindly, of course, because the young man was nothing if not sweet-tempered. All the same, Gwendal had been sure he was about to have to pack his room and leave the castle. Now, though, he found himself strolling through the castle grounds, listening to the young man's excited chatter about any number of topics. He didn't say anything, really, except to make small sounds by way of reply whenever the Maou paused long enough to indicate that he expected some kind of response.

"Gwendal, is everything ok?"

The general realized he'd been frowning when he looked down to see the King staring up at him with wide, almost fearful eyes. When had the boy become so afraid of him—or had he always been that way? He forced his features to soften, causing the younger man to smile. He was so…adorably sweet. Yet, as he looked at the Maou, he became aware of the younger man's broader, though still slim shoulders, and he didn't have to look down as far to see his face anymore. No, the King was no longer a boy at all. He was still as charming and sweet as he'd been when he'd first arrived in Shin Makoku, but Yuuri-heika was, definitely, an adult. Gwendal cleared his throat, disturbed by the sudden rush of blood through his veins.

"Everything is fine, Heika. You were talking about your ideas for making a reservoir in the north—please continue."

The Maou nodded and launched back into the topic of water conservation, gesticulating with his hands and making excited motions to punctuate his words. Gwendal considered the young man's fingers—how it had felt to have him brush his hair and stroke his nails over his scalp. He had almost embarrassed himself several times by sighing in contentment during that small interaction. He was going to have to be very careful unless he wanted to humiliate himself by thumping his foot on the ground like a dog every time the Maou touched him. This, of course, led him to consider the idea of Yuuri-heika's hands stroking and scratching different parts of his body, and the result of those thoughts was another, deeper blush and a tightening in his abdomen. _No._ He forced his attention from that alluring imagery—the Maou might have surprised him by not dismissing him, but the young man had made it very clear in the baths that he didn't think of Gwendal in that way.

"So, what do you think? Isn't it nice?"

Gwendal coughed to cover his confusion. What had the Maou just asked him?

"This is my favorite spot on the castle grounds," Yuuri-heika was looking up at him, again, with his bright smile and beautiful eyes. "I thought we could sit for a while and just enjoy the view."

"Of course," Gwendal replied, dutifully taking in his surroundings.

The King had led them to a somewhat secluded spot under the spreading canopy of the willow trees that grew near the banks of the small lake that fed the fresh water springs on the castle grounds. The young man was right, it was a nice spot. The late afternoon sun sparkled over the surface of the water, and the pleasant, temperate afternoon was neither uncomfortably warm nor was it chilly as it would be in a few more weeks when autumn came. The Maou grinned once again and sat down beneath what was, apparently, his favorite tree, his back pressed against the bark. He scooted over a little bit, leaving plenty of room for Gwendal to sit beside him and share the wide, sturdy trunk of the tree. He hesitated for a moment, until Yuuri-heika cocked his head to the side—in the most adorable gesture ever—and patted the ground beside him.

Gwendal sat down gingerly, taking care to sit close enough to the king to be sociable but not so close as to brush against him. He held his breath, waiting to see what the young man would do, and was almost startled when Yuuri-heika edged near enough so that their shoulders touched lightly. He stretched his legs out before him, crossing his boots at the ankle, while the King wrapped his arms around his shins, drawing his legs up, and rested his chin on his knees.

"I really like this spot. I come here to think sometimes," the King said quietly. "It's sort of my special place, you know?"

Gwendal wasn't sure what he should say, though he felt privileged that the Maou would choose to share his private sanctuary with him. He covered his discomfiture by unbuckling his sword belt and laying it to the side—still within reach. "Sometimes…sometimes I like to go up onto the parapets. It is quiet there."

"You'll probably laugh at me," the young man replied. "But…the parapets make me nervous. I'm not really very fond of heights—and yet it's funny how often I seem to find myself up in the air."

"Why do they scare you?"

"I always think I'm going to fall."

"I'd never let that happen," Gwendal said softly before he thought better of it. "Besides," he said, clearing his throat. "It's perfectly safe if you stay away from the edge."

"You remember that time, when the dragons were going crazy and you came out to save the bearbees?"

"I remember." Gwendal turned his head so he could see the king at his side.

"I was really scared, because I thought you were going to fall off the roof."

"You were?" Gwendal drew his brows together in thought. "I was perfectly safe."

The young man shrugged. "Maybe so. But I was still worried."

"I will…be more careful," Gwendal said, crossing mental fingers in hopes that it was the right response. Why would the Maou be so concerned for his safety? He was old enough, far old enough, to take care of himself.

"Good."

Pleased that the king seemed mollified with that response, Gwendal lapsed into thought again. The silence stretched between them, but it was companionable—not strained at all. The tired general closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. It was peaceful. The rustle of the drooping branches whispered whenever the breeze picked up. He could hear the murmur of the water, and the gentle cheeping sound of crickets. In the distance, he could barely make out the sound of horses and soldiers, but it was far enough away that it almost seemed like a dream. Gwendal opened his eyes when he felt a weight on his shoulder. He looked down to see that the King's chest was rising and falling in a smooth, even motion—the young man's eyes were closed and his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

_The Maou was asleep._

"Foolish," Gwendal whispered, though there was no condemnation in his tone. "Your neck will ache when you wake up."

The King didn't rouse, he merely snuggled closer. Gwendal debated for a moment, then gently eased his arm around Yuuri-heika's shoulders, adjusting the slumbering Maou until the young man was settled in his lap, his head nestled against Gwendal's chest. The King sighed in his sleep, a soft smile on his lips, and tightened his hold around Gwendal's waist. Gently, afraid he would wake the young man in his arms, Gwendal lifted his hand and lightly brushed the hair from Yuuri-heika's face. The young man nuzzled his cheek against Gwendal's palm, mumbling something and wiggled until he found the position that suited him. Gwendal didn't dare repeat his caress. Instead, he leaned back against the tree, drawing his knees up slightly so that Yuuri-Heika was secure against his body. The afternoon sun was relaxing, and the soft, steady breathing of the young man in his arms, combined with the soft lapping of the water at the bank lulled the tall mazoku until his eyes were more than half closed. The soft warmth of the King was like a drug, working with his already exhausted body to allow sleep to steal over his consciousness. Resting his cheek against the top of Yuuri-heika's head, Gwendal told himself he would just rest for a moment or two, then he would carry the Maou back to the castle. Just for a minute, he promised himself. Before he even finished the thought, his eyes drifted closed and he joined Yuuri-heika in a deep sleep.

--O.o.O—

"That was fast," Yozak said, grinning, as he stood on the balcony with Conrad and Gunter. He passed the spy-glass to his taichou.

Conrad looked through the glass and nodded, passing it along to Gunter. The beautiful adjutant also peered into the distance, and a small, pleased smile appeared on the royal advisor's lips.

"It would appear that their conversation was…productive." Gunter said. "However, this is merely a preliminary step—this is a tentative bonding. It remains to be seen what will happen when von Bielefeld-kyo returns."

"Well, he better not mess anything up," Yozak said, calculating on his fingers. "I've got two months salary riding on the kiddo."

"Yozak!" Conrad sighed, clearly irritated. "Are you seriously wagering on Gwendal and Yuuri's relationship?"

"Yep," the spy said proudly. "My money's on the Maou. I say he gets Gwendal to slap him before the end of summer."

He waited for the shocked recriminations to begin, but to his surprise, Gunter was blushing and his best friend was staring into the distance again. "Your Excellency," he said, suspicion dawning. "You're in the pool, too?"

"Perhaps I made a tiny wager. I think Yuuri-heika will wed Gwendal by the Mid-Winter Solstice." Gunter admitted.

"Taichou?" Yozak prodded.

"Spring, next year."

"I knew it! You two are just as bad as I am!"

"I wouldn't say that," Conrad replied. "Wolfram is due home in the morning—a pigeon mail just arrived. Between his reaction and the fact that we still don't know who sabotaged the carriage last night—I want you to find out everything you can, Yozak."

"Any information we can provide for Gwendal would be beneficial," Gunter said. "I think after today, and possibly tonight, Gwendal will be…very stern when it comes to the Maou's safety. His majesty has gained a mighty protector—even if he doesn't quite know it."

"Shit." Yozak's eloquent expression drew the attention of his companions. He shook his head, frowning and passed the glass back to Conrad. "Look to the west. Your intelligence was wrong, Taichou. Wolfram is almost here."

Conrad looked, then snapped the glass closed. "This could be bad. Yozak, buy as much time for Yuuri and Gwendal as you can—you and Gunter can keep him and my mother distracted. You know what my brother is like when he's tired and he's finally sleeping. Let's give them as much time to rest as possible. I'll keep an eye on them and try to give Gwendal a warning before they talk to Wolfram."

"Can't they even have an afternoon?" Gunter sighed, but he nodded all the same.

Yozak, privately, agreed. For all his teasing and taunting, he really wanted to see his Bocchan happy, and it had been painfully evident, to him at least, that the young Maou had deep feelings for the taciturn General. Shrugging off his disappointed frown, he summoned his best, most cheerful expression. For a long time, he hadn't understood what it was that drew the king to the oft-grumpy military advisor, but in the end it didn't matter. The maou might not recognize his own desires, but the rest of his court did—and making Yuuri-heika happy was something Yozak took a very personal interest in. He loved the king almost as though the younger man was a sibling—a feeling that was no doubt inappropriate for someone of his station, but he didn't care. He'd lay down his life for the King if he was called on to make that sacrifice. And, considering the reaction of Lord von Bielefeld when the fiery blonde learned of these developments, it was entirely possible that the spy would be called on to do just that.

* * *

_Ok, so there's chapter 3. I was pleased, as I was writing, to see that Gwendal is at least beginning to relax a little bit, and that Yuuri is getting his mojo back, so to speak. So, let me know what you think…and chapter four will be up by the weekend sometime. It opens with Wolfram's reaction. Youch. Take care everyone, and thank you so, so much for all your comments and thoughts. I'm almost finished answering mail, and will be able to answer everyone before I go back to bed. I LOVE my days off! Now, it's off to eat steaks and mashed potatoes! I'll be seeing you…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Greetings from the sickhouse. I'm still really under the weather, taking leave and sleeping, my roommate has been forced to bring me my laptop and chicken soup. Ugh. Anyway, here's chapter four with the usual disclaimers. Not sure how this one turned out, but, if it's full of mistakes, I'll edit them out later when I'm more myself, but I just wanted to make sure this got up before the weekend is over. I know I'm behind on both reading and answering reviews, but I'm hoping that I've turned the corner and will be on the mend by Sunday. Until then, take care, my friends, and don't succumb to flu season! See you all down at the bottom…_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Brotherly Love**

Yuuri's first thought, when he woke, was that he'd never been so content. He didn't know how it had happened, but he knew within a moment that he was in Gwendal's strong arms, and the tall, dark general was gently stroking his hand over Yuuri's hair, urging him to take a few minutes to orient himself. Yuuri felt a simple, strong burst of happiness tingle throughout his entire body, but as it receded, he remembered the events that had taken place to get him to this place and he began to feel embarrassed. He supposed his confusion must have shown on his face, because Gwendal's own expression went from tender to brooding. The soft touch of Gwendal's hand on his head disappeared, and even though Yuuri was still sitting on the General's lap, somehow Gwendal had managed to…withdraw himself so that Yuuri felt more like he was seated on a concrete bench and not on the warm, living lap of a man he was beginning to really care about.

"Heika," Gwendal said, his face turned toward the castle. "Wolfram has returned to the castle and if he is not already, he will soon be looking for you."

"Already?" Yuuri asked, wistfully. "I'm glad that Greta is home, but..,I would have liked to rest a little longer."

Gwendal's jaw moved a fraction of an inch as he almost looked at the king. Yuuri shivered suddenly, even though the afternoon was warm. The loss of Gwendal's body heat that had so comforted him during his nap had seemed to drain the warmth from his frame. Perhaps he should feel strange about waking up in the tall man's arms, but he just couldn't bring himself to regret it. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he knew that he had done so with his bottom firmly on the ground. The only way he could have ended up in Gwendal's lap was if the General had put him there, and Yuuri knew Gwendal well enough to be certain that under those specific circumstances, he wouldn't have performed such an action if he didn't want to. And _THAT_ meant that Gwendal had wanted to hold him. That particular thought made Yuuri tingle again, and brought a happy smile to his face.

"I hope I was not too presumptuous in moving you, Heika?" Gwendal said quietly. "I didn't want you to wake with a sore neck."

"Not at all, Gwendal," Yuuri replied. Then he decided to explore the topic for a minute or two more—Wolfram and his temper could wait just a little longer. "I guess you could have woken me, though. I'm sorry I troubled you."

"It was no trouble." Gwendal's voice was gruff, almost angry, but he was also…_blushing_. Yuuri almost fell off the man's lap when he noticed the very slight dusting of color on his cheeks. Maybe he wasn't angry at all? One more test, he decided.

Yuuri took a deep breath, then very slowly relaxed his upper body until his head was resting against Gwendal's shoulder, his lips only a whisper away from the General's neck. He felt Gwendal still beneath him, then, just as easily as the tall man had withdrawn his warmth from Yuuri, that sensation of complete reassurance was back—Gwendal's arms were around him, this time, one of the man's large hands stroked up and down Yuuri's back in a gentle caress. All of this information was too much for Yuuri's still sleepy senses to process fully—he simply knew that he was warm, happy, and very safe.

"I'm still so tired," Yuuri said, yawning. "Aren't you?"

"I…will look forward to a good sleep tonight, Heika. Provided we have beds to sleep in. Wolfram is displeased."

"That's right," Yuuri frowned. "How do you know he's back? Did you see him?"

The tall man shook his head. "No, Conrad woke me and told me the news."

"Conrad?" Yuri smiled a little at that. He should have known he could count on his Nazukeoya to be watching over him. Then he realized the other part of what Gwendal had said. "You fell asleep, too?"

Gwendal nodded, the faint blush reappearing on his cheeks. He stiffened as Yuuri squeezed his waist in an impromptu hug, then relaxed.

"I'm glad," Yuuri said, staring up into Gwendal's beautiful, dark blue eyes. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me that you could sleep, too. I told you this is a special place."

As though the air had shifted, becoming heavier, Yuuri broke off, realizing he was beginning to babble. There was a look in Gwendal's eyes that he hadn't seen before, but something deep in his chest must have recognized it. He realized, too, that Gwendal was staring at him with an intensity he had never seen from the tall demon. Yuuri concentrated on breathing, and licked his suddenly dry lips. The slight motion of his tongue arrested Gwendal's attention, making Yuuri feel like a very small prey in the sight of a voracious, skilled predator. Yuuri wet his lips again, his heart beginning to pound painfully in his chest. He saw a spark in Gwendal's eyes, a flash of something that promised to be exciting. Without conscious effort, he was straining his neck, turning his face upward even as Gwendal's pony-tail brushed over him as the General leaned down.

"Brother! Yuuri!" Wolfram's ear-splitting screech rent the moment in two, tearing Yuuri's nerves to shreds.

Of all the times to interrupt—his first kiss—_his first REAL kiss_? Right here, in the most romantic spot in the castle? It really was too much. A frustrated sound that sounded like a little mew escaped his throat. He glanced at Gwendal, the man's expression now filled with frustration, compassion, and perhaps just a hint of humor. Gwendal raised his hand, smoothing his fingers over Yuuri's cheek, then his thumb dragged lightly over Yuuri's bottom lip, causing the young King to gasp. He was so tempted to lean forward and was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to draw that thumb into his mouth—and where the hell had he come up with _THAT_ idea? Yuuri blushed, embarrassed by the images his own brain supplied him.

"Later," Gwendal's rough whisper held a promise that made Yuuri shiver. It happened so quickly that Yuuri was certain he'd imagined it, but, briefly, he felt Gwendal's lips move against his neck as the general gave him one final squeeze. He held Yuuri in his arms, managed, somehow, to stand, then set the Maou on his feet. "Stay behind me, Heika. Until he shows his hand."

"No way," Yuuri replied, edging closer to Gwendal's side. "I may not be very skilled or anything, but you haven't done anything wrong—and neither have I. I can see that he's angry, he's practically running across the grounds, but…we don't have anything to hide. We're friends, right?"

"Friends," Gwendal repeated, as though considering the word. "Yes, Heika. We said we would be friends."

"Well, where I was raised friends stick with each other, and watch out for each other. So, we'll handle this together. Ready?"

"Yes, Heika." Gwendal's expression was unreadable, but he didn't resist when Yuuri reached down and took his hand. He squeezed the General's large hand with his smaller fingers, and felt better when he felt the gesture returned.

"Well," Yuuri said, running his other hand through his hair. "Let's go get this over with. Maybe we can meet him before he gets here and this altercation ruins my favorite spot."

Wolfram's eyes were blazing, his shoulders stiff with tension and every line of his body was rigid. Yuuri looked his fiancé in the eye, trying to at least act brave even if he didn't feel courageous at all. The last few days had really taken their toll on his nerves—Greta's party and everything after—and all he really wanted to do was close his eyes and disappear. Still, Gwendal was at his side, his dark scowl turning his handsome features to stone, but Yuuri didn't feel afraid. He knew he hadn't caused the expression, and a very small part of him whispered that maybe Gwendal resented being interrupted as much as he did.

"Calm down, Wolfram," Yuuri said gently, as they converged in the meadow just past the courtyard. "There is no reason for you to be this upset."

"Really? How dare you tell me to calm down, you heartless, cheating…ass! How do you think I felt when my mother's ship docked and the first thing we heard from the men on the docks was the salacious gossip concerning the Maou and his new _lover_?"

Wolfram was practically screaming, his eyes showing fire that Yuuri was certain the blonde would like to call to his hand. Greta had followed him from the castle, as well as Conrad, Cheri-sama, and Gunter. Yozak was not visible, but Yuuri had no doubt that his friend was nearby.

"Control your temper, Wolfram," Gwendal said, his stern tone quelling some of the volume of Wolfram's voice. "You are causing a scene in front of countless eyes, which is unacceptable in someone of your station—more importantly, you are frightening Princess Greta."

"How could you," Wolfram whispered, glaring at Gwendal, his eyes clearly showing his betrayal and pain. "How could you do this to me—when you know how much I…what it meant to me…how _COULD _you?"

"It's not Gwendal's fault," Yuuri said, giving his General's hand another soft squeeze. "It all happened really fast."

"Oh, please." Wolfram snorted and tossed his hair—and Yuuri recognized the smug gesture for what it was—the blonde's way of covering his discomfort. "You two have been sneaking around for how long, then? Months? Years? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"That is enough," Gwendal said, whispering as the others drew closer. "Whatever your objections, Wolfram, they are meaningless in context of what has happened. Just as Yuuri-heika had no choice in the matter of his engagement to you, because he did not understand our customs, so you have no choice in this situation. It is his right to take a lover. It is his right to take whomever he pleases. That he has chosen me is simply something you will have to learn to live with, because unless he dismisses me, I will remain at his side. You are my younger brother, a demon of the nobility, and I expect you to conduct yourself with the decorum that befits your raising! None of us asked for this—and here we are all the same, so behave."

"I am not a child, Gwendal," Wolfram said, his voice low and dangerous. "I am a full-grown Mazoku, and the Maou's fiancé. I am _NOT _finished with either of you."

"This is not a topic that is open for discussion, Wolfram. I won't have Gwendal's reputation damaged because you are being needlessly jealous."

"Gwendal's reputation?" Wolfram shot back. "You're worried about Gwendal's reputation? What about _MY_ reputation? Have you considered that?"

"If you would just calm down, Wolfram…" Yuuri ducked as the angry blonde took a swing, aiming for his head. Gwendal's arm shot out, his fingers wrapping around his younger brother's wrist, holding him steady in a vice-like grip.

"Yuuri! Yuuri!" Greta cried out, breaking away from Gunter's arms and running toward the three of them. Then time seemed to speed up, because Yuuri was in the middle of telling Greta to stay back, when her little hands latched onto Wolfram's sleeve. "Stop it!" She cried, yanking on the blonde's blue coat. "Stop hurting Yuuri, Wolfram! You said it's wrong to hit! Why are you two always fighting?"

Yuuri tried to reach his daughter, and Wolfram yanked his arm back, resisting Gwendal's grip and lost his balance. As he slid on the slick grass, his other arm shot out to help him retain his balance, clipping Yuuri on the chin, and then smacking Greta in the face. The little girl tumbled to the grass, dazed, and Yuuri forgot everything but his daughter. He shoved himself out from between the two demon brothers, sliding to a stop near his crumpled child. Gathering Greta in his arms, he looked over his shoulder. Gwendal had released Wolfram's wrist, his face awash in horror. Wolfram, for his part, stood shocked. Silence lay heavy over the entire group.

"Baby? Greta? Are you all right?"

The little girl sat up, winding her way into Yuuri's arms, nodding through her tears. "Why do you two always have to fight so much?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Yuuri whispered into her hair, snuggling her close to his chest. "I'm so, so sorry. We won't fight anymore, not anymore. I promise."

He lifted his eyes, staring at Wolfram, demanding with his gaze that his fiancé acquiesce to his statement. How had things ever gone this far? He wasn't sure, but he supposed it had become a habit—the bickering and the physical smacks and wallops.

"Yuuri's right, Greta," Wolfram said, his voice still shaking. "We won't fight like that again. I'm sorry."

Yuuri resisted the urge to shove Wolfram away when the blonde came over, leaning down to put his arms around Greta. He allowed a brief embrace, a lingering touch, then he moved back, taking Greta with him. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go back inside, and you can tell me all about your trip."

"Ok, Yuuri," Greta said, clinging onto his coat as he lifted her into his arms. He walked back toward the castle, flanked by Conrad and Gunter. Cheri-sama was uncharacteristically quiet, walking next to her middle child. He didn't look to see what was happening behind him, though he trusted Gwendal to prevent any more strife. He barely spared a thought for either of Cheri-sama's other sons—his attention focused on his daughter's tears.

--O.o.O—

Gwendal watched as the Maou walked away, his young daughter's arms clasped around his neck, and he looked down at his feet. He had promised Yuuri he would protect him against the easily-predicted dramatic reaction of his youngest brother and while he had done that, he had failed utterly in the end. Greta had not only been witness to a domestic argument that she should never have seen, the little girl was now going to have a physical reminder of the complete selfishness of the adults around her—the bruise on her cheek was already darkening. He felt terrible, disgusted with himself, and the one shining moment of loveliness…the kiss he'd almost shared with the maou…was tarnished forever. That memory, in his mind, would be inseparable from the image of Greta flying through the air, and landing in a small crumpled heap.

He had never approved of the way Yuuri-heika and Wolfram had handled their relationship—it seemed wrong for both of them to continue to act like selfish schoolboys, but as much as he wanted to forgive and dismiss his brother's often adolescent behavior, he had to admit that Wolfram's temper was growing wilder as the years passed. And even Gwendal was guilty for indulging his brother's faults. Despite his best intentions, because he only ever wanted the young man to have a more satisfying, happier life than he himself had led, Wolfram still refused to grow up—still refused to accept responsibilities for his own actions. Perhaps the Maou had been wrong to allow the relationship to linger for so long, but the young man strove, in all his endeavors, to bring peace to everyone around him. Gwendal didn't think that the King was in love with his brother. He didn't believe anyone thought that. But, there was no doubt that the Maou had a great deal of respect for Wolfram, and it was likely that his inability to formally break the engagement had more to do with sparing Wolfram's feelings than a secret passion he held for the fiery mazoku.

"This is all _your_ fault," Wolfram hissed, when the others were out of hearing range.

"Maybe," Gwendal conceded, his thoughts still on his own reticence to intervene in a relationship not his own. "Still, I did not hit my own child."

"I wouldn't ever hit Greta," Wolfram said, glaring at him. "Not intentionally. And this never would have happened if you hadn't put your hands all over my fiancé."

"I thought you were past the point that you had to blame everyone around you for your own mistakes, Wolfram. Part of being an adult is taking responsibility for your own actions."

"How dare you stand there acting so smug?" Wolfram's expression of disdain was more than plain on his pretty features. "You know how I feel about Yuuri, and, still, you just had to take something that doesn't belong to you. Why, Gwendal? Why would you do this to me? It's not enough for you to be the top advisor to the Maou—to be the one he depends on second to no one, except maybe Weller. You just had to be so selfish, didn't you? I know you've always wanted him—he's so small and cute. How long have you been planning this?"

Gwendal discarded the insults. They were immaterial in the circumstances, and he knew he had no reason to question his own behavior. If he had feelings for the Maou, and perhaps he had them without really allowing himself to acknowledge it, then he had still behaved honorably. However, he had neither planned nor asked for this situation.

"You know, Wolfram, better than most that entangling myself in affairs of the heart is something I avoid with great care, so I will ignore most of your words—"

"So, you admit that your heart is engaged?" Wolfram said, pouncing on his statement.

"That is beside the point," Gwendal sighed. "You said that I know how you feel about the Maou. I take exception to that. I do NOT know how you feel about the Maou at all. All anyone knows is that you are jealous and possessive. So, tell me, Wolfram—are you in love with Yuuri-heika?"

"Would it make a difference if I told you that I am?" Wolfram said, a bitter smile crossing his lips. "You've already said that unless Yuuri dismisses you, and we both know he's too soft to ever do that, that you intend to stay at his side. Well, where does that leave me, Gwendal? At first it was only Conrad and Gunter taking all his time, and now you? There's no place for me at all."

"You have not answered my question, Wolfram." Gwendal folded his arms. "Are you in love with the Maou?"

The younger demon folded his arms, mirroring Gwendal's stance, returning his stare without batting a single lash. "I don't owe you any sort of answer. I am still the Maou's fiancé and you are only his lover—that puts me a bit higher on the ladder of social standing."

"So, is it the status that you covet?" Gwendal's chest felt tight. For some reason, it bothered him, deeply, to think that his brother would trade a life of freedom and potential affection merely to cement his future social standing by holding onto the Maou. "What is it, ultimately, that you want for your life, Wolfram? Do you aspire to reign at the Maou's side—to oversee all of Shin Makoku? If that is the case, then why didn't you fight to remain Maou after Yuuri-heika returned from Earth?"

"It was not my place to question the Original King's intentions or decisions. But you are not Shinou, and I do question what you are planning."

Gwendal pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He let his chin fall closer to his chest—the headache that was starting was going to be a nasty one. "This was not planned, Wolfram. Not by me, not by the Maou. In your absence, I acted as escort to Yuuri-heika to a party. Through various misunderstandings and machinations, my reputation was called into question, the potential threat of which would have seriously undermined my ability to act in my current position. The Maou, very kindly, sought to rectify the situation by formally acknowledging me as his lover so that my reputation would be restored. He's not in love with me."

"And…you agreed?"

Gwendal bit the inside of his cheek, and calmed himself as much as he could. How could his own brother not care? "I would think, as my brother, you would appreciate the King's efforts."

"I can't compete with you, Gwendal!" Wolfram shook his head. "Why should I be happy now that I have to vie with you for Yuuri's attention? How am I supposed to do that?"

"It is only a competition if you turn it into one." Gwendal sighed again. "Why must you make everything about yourself—If you love the Maou, though you have not said that you do, but _IF_ you do…then why not question how all of this affects him? If you love someone, I believe it is common courtesy to try and make them happy."

"You're the last person who should be lecturing anyone about love," Wolfram sneered. "It hasn't worked out very well for you, has it?"

Gwendal bit back his angry retort. Sometimes, talking to his youngest sibling was like smacking his head against the stone wall of the castle—only less satisfying. He understood that the young demon's feelings were hurt, and that he now felt threatened. However, if he would only step back and think about it for a minute, nothing had really changed for him. And, if he wasn't very careful, his unrepentant behavior really would drive the King away.

"I am not the reason that you and Yuuri-heika have stalled in your relationship. I am not the reason that you have not married. I am not the reason you have lost your temper once again—"

"What exactly did you expect to happen, brother?" Wolfram said, interrupting him. "I left because Yuuri and I needed a _break_. When I come back, I discover he's moved on with my own brother, and then, to top everything off, I find you clenched together, sharing an intimate embrace right in front of Shinou and everyone. That seems a very public declaration of your intentions, Gwendal."

"Peace, Wolfram," Gwendal said through clenched teeth. "I have entertained more than enough of your taunts and if you intend to do something with that sword you've been fingering since you first came upon me, then I suggest you draw it—if you have the courage."

Wolfram's eyes blazed, their emerald depths burning with angry fire. His cheeks were covered in an embarrassed flush, and Gwendal felt instantly remorseful for calling his bravery into question. He was used to the young man ignoring his advice, or, more specifically, trying to listen to his advice but giving into his temper—however, the vague threat of violence did nothing but irritate him. Had the young demon learned nothing at all after flattening his daughter?

"I could," Wolfram promised, his voice dark. "I could draw my sword, Gwendal. It is my right to challenge the King's lover if he were to dare to attempt usurpation of my place."

"I will not fight you, Wolfram. I have not tried to take your place, and, frankly, neither would I want it. I have watched for years as you've driven your relationship with the King into the ground. Culpability for the state of your personal affairs rests with you and the King—and no others."

"You will not give him up, then?" Wolfram asked, his tone puzzled. "You would truly choose Yuuri over your own brother."

Gwendal hesitated. His every instinct told him that giving up his place in Yuuri-heika's life would be a decision he would regret forever. However, the idea that his brother would assume he was choosing one man over the other was painful. He had looked after Wolfram for most of the younger mazoku's life, and had done so happily. He had shouldered many burdens so that his younger brother wouldn't have to, and still, here he was about to clash with his own sibling? The concept was more than distasteful—it was blasphemous. A man would never allow something so fleeting as a lover to come between blood. How could Wolfram not see that?

"You have had five years to solidify your relationship with the Maou, Wolfram." He said, trying one more time. "In those years, you have made little progress and done your own suit more harm than good thanks to your vile temper. Still, the King has allowed you entrée into his life. He has shared the custody and the responsibility for raising his daughter with you—and before you object, we both know that Yuuri adopted Greta and you bullied your way into the relationship, there, as well, citing your status as his fiancé. He is a kind man, with a temperate and gentle spirit. He has a soft heart, and a belief in the goodness of others. He cares more for the people of this country than he cares for himself—and perhaps if you concentrated more on those qualities about him and less on the shortcomings you seem to see in him, then you would not be in the position you are in now. I realize I have become the target for your anger because you are frustrated, but the person you should be berating is yourself. You are foolish, rash, and leap into the fray before thinking your actions through…and you are too old for that now."

"You're in love with him," Wolfram whispered, backing away from Gwendal as though his older brother was some kind of new and particularly frightful insect. "All this time, you've been in love with him, haven't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gwendal growled, finally losing his control on his temper. "Just because I can recognize the King's finer qualities does not mean I am in love with him. He is imperfect as we all are. We're talking about you."

"No," Wolfram said, shaking his head. "You're the one who's fooling himself, Gwendal."

"I'm not listening to this. Pull yourself together, Wolfram, and start acting your age."

Gwendal strode off in the direction of the castle, pushing himself to a pace that was uncomfortable even for him, but his younger brother's words still rang in his ears. To accuse him of being in love with the Maou was…insulting. Gwendal prided himself on his behavior. He was careful to maintain decorum, and rarely, with the exception of Princess Greta—who was too adorable to deny—even allowed himself the pleasure of becoming close to others. Love was not a word in his vocabulary. There was no place for love in a military mazoku's life. If he allowed himself that sort of weakness, he would never be able to do his job. And just because in his heart he was a more emotional person than he could ever let on, it didn't mean that he had been harboring tender emotions for the young Maou. Still, something in the certainty of Wolfram's accusation discomfited him. Probably because he knew his actions had wounded his younger sibling, unintentional though they had been—that was no doubt the root of his disturbed frame of mind. By the time he reached his office, his head was pounding. The pain radiated through his head, and traveled down his neck into his shoulders. He hadn't had a headache this bad in ages, and all he wanted to do was sit down in his chair and simply breathe his last.

"Gwennie?"

He looked up to see his mother hovering in the doorway. She was not her usual self—she hadn't flown into the room and squeezed the life out of him.

"Mother." He sighed. "Is something wrong?"

"I could ask you the same, my son." She smiled at him. "May I come in?"

He nodded. It was no use to deny her, anyway. He knew his mother well, and when she was determined, there was no stopping her.

"When I first heard that Yuuri-heika had taken you as a lover, I was…concerned." She sat in the chair opposite his desk. "Make no mistake, I think it very romantic that you and the Maou have finally confessed to one another, but, I did worry about how it would affect your brother."

"You are mistaken, Mother. Yuuri-heika and I have made no confessions. The Maou announced me as his lover to prevent a large, embarrassing scandal. We are not…involved."

"I wonder," his mother said, smiling softly, her eyes shining. "You are so like your father, Gwennie. He was terribly romantic, and truly wonderful, but he hid it under a gruff exterior much like yours. It took me ages to break down his barriers."

Gwendal huffed out a small laugh. "And by ages you mean an hour or two?"

"You flatter me," she said, her smile brightening. "It was an entire month, but, still true love prevailed. I hope…I hope you're not planning anything drastic now, like possibly rescinding your acceptance of Yuuri-heika's offer?"

He was silent. How did she always seem to know what he was thinking? Sometimes, Gwendal swore she was more sorcerer than Gunter! He had been thinking exactly that. The image of Greta lying in the grass flashed in his mind again.

"My intention is not to cause more problems than we already have, Mother. You saw what happened earlier."

"Emotions are never easy, and feelings can blind even the wisest, my dearest. You must learn to trust your heart, Gwennie, or you will be silent and sad for all your life. I don't want that for you. You should trust, Gwennie. You should open your heart. Not everyone is…_her_."

"Why must everyone insist that I feel what I do not!" Gwendal bit out, standing so quickly his chair fell over backwards. He made a disgusted sound in his throat and turned to face the window. He braced his arm on the glass and leaned his forehead against his sleeve. "First, Gunter rails at me for harming the Maou's tender heart, Wolfram accuses me of being in love with him, and you…my own mother…must bring up a subject that I forbade over seven decades past. This is not about love—must I shout it from the roof, Mother? The maou protected my reputation, and nothing more. He would have done the same for any of us, and while I am grateful and intend to do my best with the circumstances as they stand, I am _NOT_ in love with him, and I resent the implication."

"I've really made a lot of trouble for you, Gwendal. I'm sorry for it."

Gwendal froze. He didn't dare lift his head or turn around. He knew that soft voice, and he recognized the hurt in it—despite the forced bravery in the tone. Great, he thought, another gaffe.

"Heika," his mother said, as he heard her get up. He could just imagine she was embracing the young King even now. "I am so sorry for what happened earlier. Don't blame my boys, please. It was a terrible accident, but I'm sure everyone regrets what happened."

"It's all right, Cheri-sama. I know the truth."

Gwendal winced at the emphasis the Maou placed on the last word.

"I just came to tell you that I'm taking Greta to earth. I want José to see her."

The idea of Yuuri leaving moved Gwendal to action. He turned to face the Maou, forming an objection in his mind, but the younger man's sad expression stopped his voice in his throat.

"I didn't want anyone to worry. I won't be gone long at all. I only need a short time on Earth, so, maybe a day or two here at most. I promise I will catch up on all my work when I come back, Gwendal, ok?"

"Heika," he whispered, then cleared his throat. "Heika, is Princess Greta badly injured?"

The Maou shook his head quickly. "No, I don't think so, but I just want to be sure. Dr. Rodriguez is a really good pediatrician and he was Murata's—the Great Sage's—doctor, too. I trust him."

"I remember him," Gwendal said, at a loss as to how to respond. For all his talk, he really didn't want the King to leave. "You…You really shouldn't travel alone, though. Perhaps I—"

"Conrad's coming." The Maou said, stepping back toward the hall. Gwendal thought his eyes were shining more than usual, and the reason for that felt like a punch to his stomach. "I…I wouldn't dream of intruding, Gwendal. Please, take care of things here while I'm gone?"

"Of course, Heika." What else could he say? More than anything else in the world, Gwendal wanted to turn the clock back—he wanted that moment back, the one where he felt at peace with the King in his arms and their lips almost touching. If he could do it all over again, he wouldn't hesitate…and then maybe the young man wouldn't be looking at him with that sad, hurt expression.

The maou nodded, then turned to go. Gwendal wanted to go after him, but could think of no valid excuse, and he refused to put himself on display for his mother's amusement. He glanced at her, recognizing the sadness in her eyes as well. How many times had she encouraged him, in her well-meant but overzealous way, to reach out to the world again…not to judge everyone against someone he knew to be a flawed measuring stick. Her eyes were pleading with him, and he debated for another moment, but in the end it wasn't his mother's expression, but the slumped shoulders of the King that made his feet move. Before Yuuri-heika could disappear down the hall, Gwendal crossed his office and reached out to grasp the Maou's upper arm. When the King turned to face him, the tears were now visibly dampening his lashes.

"Did you forget something, Gwendal?" He muttered, looking down at the floor.

"Yes," he replied simply, and leaned down to touch his forehead to the Maou's. "Please tell Princess Greta that I am sorry and that I hope to see her very soon. Don't tarry, Heika. I will…I will wait for your return."

"I won't be long," the King whispered. "Don't worry."

"I am never easy until you are back again, Heika." Gwendal said, honestly. "I want…I want to walk with you again."

The Maou nodded, a blush creeping over his face, and Gwendal almost smiled. Almost nothing had gone right since the day began, but, maybe, there might be something to salvage if they were all careful. He released the younger man and watched as he walked down the hall. Just before Yuuri-heika disappeared around the corner, he stopped and gave Gwendal a tiny little wave. The General nodded, and the King was gone—just like that. The only thing that disturbed him now, though, was the fact that with the Maou out of sight, he felt…bereft. And such a thing shouldn't happen. It took Gwendal a moment to recognize his mother's small hand on his shoulder.

"My son," She said quietly. "Even the greatest achievements always begin with a single action. You have shouldered such a heavy burden, from a too young age, as well. If I had been a stronger ruler, perhaps you would not have had to come of age so very quickly. Don't forget that life can be beautiful, Gwennie. Life, truly, can be beautiful. Let your heart out."

He didn't reply, but reached up and covered her hand with his own, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"It's all right to miss him," she said, laying her cheek on his arm. "And it's natural to wish he would stay."

"He is Wolfram's fiancé." Gwendal said after a long moment.

"That's true," his mother replied, her voice lighter, though her message was still very clear. "And they make a beautiful couple. But, you're his lover now, Gwendal—responsible for his heart, and he for yours. After all he has done for Shin Makoku, I think you can trust him not to break it."

"He doesn't want me."

He was surprised by his mother's light laughter. She tugged on his pony-tail until he bent down and allowed her to kiss his cheek.

"Of course not, darling. He doesn't want you, Gwennie, the same way you don't want him." She laughed again and squeezed him. "So very stubborn!"

* * *

_I suspect that these shorter chapters are going to extend this one a bit longer than the last story, but I like the pace of this story with about four thousand less words per chapter. Gwendal and Yuuri are moving slowly, I know…and as was mentioned, it does seem to be two steps forward, three steps back for these two…but, next chapter begins the serious pace of the story…and no, Wolfram's not finished, either. He will eventually have to make a decision, too. Poor Gunter and Conrad…they will have their work cut out for them. Thanks for reading, everyone, and have no fear—this story will definitely be finished, I won't abandon it, and I will answer my mail! Thanks for all your encouragement and your wonderful reviews…I'm off to bed and I'll be seeing you!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Right, Chapter Five. My roommate has basically chained me to the bed today, because I'm feeling a bit better and he's afraid I will have a relapse if I get up and actually do the laundry. So, I had no choice but to write chapter five. As I am also freshly napped, I will start to answer reviews as well. BTW, Shori Volcano, Scythe, is the inspiration for my next LTM one shot. I laughed until my roomie thought I was going to cough up a lung when I read that. Ewwww gross image, eh? I know, so, let's get on with the smooching instead. I don't own the Maou, but I think my flu germs look a lot like mini-wolframs throwing fireballs down my throat. Thank you SO much for reading and for all your wonderful reviews, which I'm now off to work on answering…I'll see you down at the bottom…_

* * *

**Chapter Five: Absent hearts may grow fonder, but distance is a bitch**

On the first full day of the Maou's absence, the chief military advisor to the king slept. Gunter checked on Gwendal several times during the day, but since he had finally gone to bed late the night before—several hours after his majesty had taken the princess to earth—the General slept. A testament to how stressful the past days had been on everyone, his uninterrupted slumber wasn't disturbed even when Wolfram and his soldiers trained right beneath Gwendal's window. When he awoke late in the afternoon, the taciturn mazoku sequestered himself in his office, ordering tea and a tray from time to time, and worked. He barred entry to all—even Gunter. For a time, the adjutant was content to let his best friend work his feelings out on his own.

On the second full day of the Maou's absence, the chief military advisor to the king redrew his troop assignments. It was not unusual for Gwendal to rotate company placements regularly, and Gunter knew that his best friend was ever mindful of the fact that Shin Makoku was not the only country equipped with spies. His constantly changing assignments and bivouacs had baffled the country's enemies for years, but Gwendal had another purpose to his actions—despite the safety of his soldiers always being his first priority. He tried to give his men all the leave he could, time to spend with their loved ones. Even if Gwendal himself never took a vacation, he made sure the soldier's under his command did. It was one of the many qualities Gunter admired in his friend.

On the third full day of the Maou's absence, it rained. The chief military advisor to the king cloistered himself in his office, opening it only to admit the tall, red-haired spy and Gunter for a brief period of time while Yozak gave his report on his current investigation into the potential assassination attempt on the King. Gunter was frustrated that Yozak's efforts hadn't yielded more information, but he accepted Gwendal's quiet reminder that these sorts of plots rarely revealed themselves overnight and that very little time had yet passed. Still, the idea of someone wishing to harm his heika cut to the very heart of the adjutant, and he, too, began to feel the strain of the young ruler's leaving. He couldn't know, of course, but the Maou was the very heart of Blood Pledge Castle, and when he was gone—no matter how long or short a time, everyone suffered. Usually, Gunter privately believed that he alone bore the brunt of the burden when it came to missing the king, but as the days passed and Gwendal's frown became more pronounced, and the lines around his eyes deepened—and the length of knitted fabric spilling from his basket grew longer, Gunter was no longer so sure that he was the one missing Yuuri-heika the most.

On the fourth full day of the Maou's absence, the chief military advisor to the king trained with his troops. After the session was finished, and two of the soldiers had to be treated for bruises and the practice arena had been destroyed by both Gwendal's sword and an uncontrolled burst of his maryoku, Gunter knew he had to step in. He tapped on the door to Gwendal's office, letting himself in armed only with a pot of very sweet tea and a basket of muffins.

"I thought you could use some refreshments after your display this afternoon. That must have taken quite a bit of energy."

Gwendal's lips turned down into a decided frown. "It was an accident."

"He's coming back, Gwendal." Gunter said softly, pouring the tea. "And Conrad is with him—I'm sure he's just fine. I imagine he has merely found himself tied up with his family, and perhaps even the Great Sage—Geika is studying at their version of University now and has only a limited time to spend with us until he finishes in the next two years."

"Playing the reassuring voice of reason is supposed to be my role, Gunter." Gwendal's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly as he sipped his tea.

"I'm sure he misses you." Gunter offered, as he handed Gwendal a muffin.

"I don't miss him," Gwendal replied, biting the muffin with a bit more viciousness than was strictly called for. "But when he leaves, the work piles up and we have that much more to do when he returns."

"Of course you don't miss him, Gwendal." Gunter smiled. "That's why you have that little keepsake he gave you years ago secreted in your pocket instead of its usual place on your sword belt. That's the reason your patrols of the castle grounds always include that spot under the willows, and certainly that's the reason I hear you pacing the halls at night."

"I…I might wish that you were a bit less observant," Gwendal said, after a long silence, as he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his elbow onto his desk. "I am merely concerned that the circumstances under which he left will cause a deeper rift when he returns. Wolfram has hidden himself away, only coming out for meals. I have made no progress in that area at all."

"Wolfram will make his decisions based on how he views the situation. There's nothing you can do about that."

"Regardless of his actions, he is still my brother, Gunter. I am responsible for him."

"He's nearly ninety years old." Gunter pointed out reasonably. "I wonder, when are you going to allow him to live with the consequences of his own actions? He and heika will work out the details of their relationship—as they must. Wolfram is sulking right now, and he'll come around when he's ready."

"Shouldn't you be crying and wringing your hands right now, Gunter," Gwendal growled. "How about a lament concerning the possibility that Yuuri-heika has forsaken you?"

The adjutant laughed lightly, ignoring the insult. "I am the first to admit that I'm very emotional where the Maou is concerned. Of course, I feel very secure since I have freely admitted my feelings for the young man. I am special to Heika. He loves and depends on me."

"I know he does," Gwendal muttered.

"It's a pity, therefore, that you can't see he feels almost the same about you."

Gwendal's head snapped up, a look of suspicion suffusing his features. "What do you mean almost…?"

"I'm only saying…as close as I am to the King—as devoted and loyal as I am—he's never fallen asleep in my arms. Neither has he charged me before, as he did this time just before he left, with watching over you. As I say, he almost feels the same about me as he does you…but I will never hold the place in his heart that belongs to you. I am happy for you, Gwendal, and I'd hate to see you lose something so precious because of your…damnable pride."

Gunter suppressed his amused laughter at his best friend's shocked expression by pretending to sip his tea.

"But it was just a sham," Gwendal objected. "He didn't choose me because he cares for me. He was merely rectifying an error of protocol. You read too much into his actions."

"And you don't read enough," Gunter countered. "If it was really _ALL_ about social mores, and he was so concerned with appearances, do you think he'd still be engaged after all these years? He's an adult, Gwendal, but he is woefully inexperienced, and perhaps he might find you just the slightest bit intimidating. I hate to be the one to tell you, but you really can be a bear."

"I think you're wrong."

"Care to wager on that?" Gunter said, grinning. He could see the small hints that Gwendal was considering his words. The General was no longer frowning, but his brows were drawn together in thought.

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"If I were you, I'd kiss him hello when he returns. What have you got to lose—except, of course, your doubts? He'll either return your kiss, or he'll pull away. How hard is that?"

"I can't do that," Gwendal whispered, his expression appalled.

"Then I guess you're going to ride that fence you're on for another few decades and by the time you make up your mind, he'll probably have moved on to someone not afraid to show him the affection he needs and deserves." Gunter shrugged lightly.

Gwendal's face froze into a stony mask of rage. Apparently, the idea of the Maou seeking solace in another's arms was not a happy thought for the grim mazoku. Gunter bit his lip, forcing his expression to remain placid. Perhaps they couldn't see it, but Wolfram and Gwendal both shared a very passionate nature. While Wolfram had allowed his emotions to take an outward, and inappropriately demonstrative turn, Gwendal's had turned inward, making the older brother almost impossible to read, but Gunter had known Gwendal for more than a hundred years. He had special insight.

"I'm not afraid." Gwendal declared.

"That's good to know." Gunter stood and poured Gwendal one more cup of tea. He knew that he had done his part—at least for today. The dour mazoku would need some time to think about this little conversation. "And, Gwendal, try not to destroy any more castle property while you're busy _not_ missing the Maou. I don't have the budget for those kinds of repairs."

Gunter ducked out the door, quickly closing it behind him, giggling a little when he heard the crash from the teacup that he'd barely avoided. Sometimes, it really felt good to have the last word.

_And on the fifth day…the Maou returned to Shin Makoku_.

Gunter was arranging roses in the new vase that the king of Francshire had sent as a gift to Yuuri-heika, Gwendal grumbling as he held the fragile porcelain piece, when the message arrived from Shinou's temple. The adjutant barely caught the vase, when Gwendal dropped it, turning on his heel and leaving the room without a word. Gunter hurried to catch up with his friend. Gwendal was already on a horse—not even waiting for his own to be saddled, but merely appropriating the nearest mount available, leaving one soldier scratching his head in stunned confusion. Gunter took a moment longer to politely ask the stable-hand for the reins of the horse he'd just brought out, then he followed Gwendal, unable to keep the knowing grin from his lips.

If Ulrike-sama thought his Excellency, Lord von Voltaire was a bit more impatient than usual, she didn't make any remark. Gunter followed his friend, staring at the strong lines of his broad back, reading the tension and hope in his posture. As they were allowed past the gates, they arrived just as the King's wet, bedraggled form popped up in the water. The young Maou was…too adorable, looking very much like a wide-eyed, soaked kitten as he shook his head. Gwendal had dropped to one knee, reaching out his hand in a silent offer. Yuuri-heika took his General's fingers in his own and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain.

"You are well, Heika?" Gwendal asked, his voice rough. Gunter held his breath.

"Yeah, still a little tired, though. I'm really sorry, I slept for longer than I meant to, and then my mother…" the Maou broke off, shivering. "Well, she was just my mother, and Shori, too, but Greta is fine. José says she's not injured beyond the bruise. How long has it been?"

"Four days, sixteen hours." Gwendal replied, stepping back to give the king some room.

"Where are Conrad and the Princess?" Gunter asked.

"Oh, Hi, Gunter." The Maou smiled at him. "They're on the way. I wanted to come through first and get an idea of how things are here."

He turned back to Gwendal, when the General's hand slid up his arm and came to rest on his shoulder. "It was only a little while for me," the young Maou said, staring up at Gwendal's face. "But…I missed you and I'm glad to see you. Is everything all right?"

"It is now," Gwendal replied.

The Maou was clearly not ready for the kiss, and Gunter might have suggested a few tips to his friend about how not to surprise someone in the middle of speaking, still, it made his heart flutter with happiness when his heika's eyes closed and his hands found their way to Gwendal's upper arms, his slight fingers pressing into the larger man's biceps. The kiss was brief, but it was enough to daze the Maou, when Gwendal lifted his head and pulled Yuuri-heika to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around the wet, dripping young man. Gunter made note of two decidedly contented mews that escaped his beloved heika's throat and one very satisfied smirk on his best friend's face.

Gunter cleared his throat. "They're coming now."

When Conrad and Greta came through the watery portal between the worlds, Yuuri-heika was waiting for them, his arms outstretched. Greta, smiling and soaked, dashed out of the fountain and into his arms. The force of her hug sent the king backwards, only slightly off-balance, and pressed him against Gwendal's chest. The stoic General's arm encircled the Maou's waist, supporting his weight. For a second, Gunter saw time still, then stop, the image of the three of them imprinting itself on his memory. A quick glance at the king's knight revealed the half-mazoku saw the same thing. This was…_right_. The feeling, the image, the message behind it lifted a veil that had descended over the king from almost the moment he'd first stepped into Shin Makoku, and all Gunter's senses told him that this was how it was meant to be—this was the royal family and everything else, _anything else_, was a waste of resources. He exchanged another look with Conrad. There was much work to be done.

The Princess's amused chatter filled the chamber, echoing off the walls. She talked to all of them, telling a disjointed story about her doctor's visit, her human grandmother's cookies, and her Uncle Shori's grumpy attitude. After the trio had toweled off, and Conrad had taken his place at Gunter's side to observe the interactions, Gwendal reached out to set the Princess onto his shoulder when she lifted her arms. Though her visits to earth had been few, it had become a tradition that she returned to the castle with her uncle Gwendal. It was likely because her adoptive father and his fiancé would already have been arguing by this point.

"Uncle Gwen, I brought you something," the princess said, smiling.

"What's that, then, sweetheart?"

Gunter watched, following with Conrad as Yuuri reached into a bag he'd brought with him, and pulled out one of the water-proof bags that Gunter had become accustomed to seeing. He opened it, and pulled out two wrapped items, apparently supported on tiny white sticks.

"What is it?" Gwendal asked.

"They're lollipops—candy. You get them when you are particulate…particularly brave during your doctor visit! Unwrap that one, it's green apple, and Papa said you'd like it."

Gunter smiled, watching as his best friend and the small princess savored their candy treats as they returned to the temple's courtyard. The General moved the princess from his shoulder, and straight onto the front of his horse. He mounted with his countless years of practiced grace, and turned his animal, waiting for the rest of them to catch up. Gunter blushed at the look Gwendal exchanged with the Maou. Conrad nudged his shoulder, smiling.

"I see it." Gunter replied to the silent observation. "What are you carrying there?"

"His Majesty was also delayed by a bit of shopping. I am carrying presents."

"Gifts? Another good sign." He turned and called out to the Maou. "Heika, I apologize, but in my haste to come and greet you, I neglected to bring additional horses. Please take my mount—Conrad and I will walk back to the castle."

"But—" The Maou began to object, frowning.

"Go on, Yuuri," Conrad said, smiling. "Gunter and I have to catch up on what we missed while we were away."

"Are you sure?" The King's eyes spoke volumes. He would have happily stayed, but the way his glance kept landing on a certain blue-eyed demon was telling.

"He's waiting, Heika," Gunter replied, nodding his head toward the unsmiling General.

That was all the urging the young man needed. The years had given Yuuri experience and his natural athleticism had combined with the practice to make him a decent horseman. It was with a fluid motion, therefore, that he mounted the warhorse, and soon Conrad and Gunter were treated to the image of the two most powerful men in Shin Makoku riding together, almost imperceptibly leaning toward one another, as the Princess snuggled back against the damp green coat of her Uncle.

"How bad was it?" Conrad asked when the Maou was a distant image in front of them.

"Wolfram is still sulking, and Gwendal nearly destroyed half the castle when his nerves got the better of him."

"Four days is a long time when you're in love." Conrad remarked, smiling. "Of course, less than two days is a long time when you're escorting a moody, lovesick Maou."

"That good?" Gunter inquired, laughing.

"I've seen legless tortoises move faster than these two."

"Be patient, Conrad. I know you want the Maou's happiness, and your brother's, too. But, all we can really do is support them and give them a gentle push in the right direction."

"If I had any maryoku, I'd give them a push they wouldn't forget. I love Gwendal, but he's going to have to get off his ass and make Yuuri see what he feels."

"Ah, but you missed an important event, my young student." Gunter grinned. "When the Maou came through the fountain, he was kissed by a very relieved General…and every shred of evidence points to his enjoyment of the aforementioned caress. It was very romantic."

"You're kidding!" Conrad stopped. "You're telling me they kissed and I missed it!"

"Indeed. That may just escalate the time table—it's looking good for mid-winter."

"Damn it." Conrad muttered. "Who would have guessed Gwendal would be so bold. You egged him on, didn't you?"

"If I said anything at all, it was only to remind your elder brother that inaction on his part might just leave the door open to competition. It seems to have been sufficiently motivating."

"That's damned close to cheating, Gunter." There was no heat in Conrad's words, though, just a singular note of relief.

"I'm sure that's what Yozak would say, too. Which reminds me—we need to check the locks on all the storerooms. He's not above a little tampering to get the two of them alone."

"Indeed." Conrad picked up his pace. "But, Yuuri will be waiting and some of these presents are for Gwendal. Let's get back before Yozak takes it upon himself to do something drastic like tell Yuuri that Gwendal's dying and the only cure is sex."

"Mmmm…" Gunter sighed, his thoughts filling with images that brought a familiar pressure to his cheeks. "What a beautiful way to die, though."

"Incorrigible," Conrad said shaking his head.

"You might have loved him first, Conrad," Gunter replied, smiling. "And Gwendal might love him best…but _I _will always love him the most. As long as he is happy and fulfilled, I will be content. But my fantasies remain my own."

"Guess I shouldn't tell you I pilfered something for you then." Conrad said, rubbing his shoulder against Gunter's as he pulled something from his pocket. Gunter opened the little plastic package and pulled out one of the tiny portraits that he knew to be a photograph. A happy, smiling infant stared back at him, adorably dressed in soft, blue, footed pajamas.

"This is…Heika?" Gunter gasped, holding the picture close.

"Yes. His mother thought you would like to have a copy so I actually wasn't forced to steal it."

"He was…the most beautiful baby!"

"A beautiful, sweet baby," Conrad said, his voice nostalgic. "And an adorable toddler, a brave and courageous young man, and the best Maou we have ever known. I love him as though he was my own child, and I would do anything to see him happy."

"Then let us hope that one very slow-moving mazoku remembers that time waits for no demon."

--O.o.O—

Yuuri stood by the window of his office, watching the soldiers move in formation. Gwendal was reviewing his troops, about to call for the gate to be opened, and send his regiments to their new assignments. The afternoon had passed quickly, and their schedules had conspired to separate them almost immediately upon their return to the castle. There were visiting guests waiting to see Yuuri, and Gwendal was engaged with his soldiers—the tableau now serving to fuel Yuuri's thoughts. At present, Gunter, Conrad and Wolfram were in his office. It was quiet, just for the moment, each man gathering his thoughts, he supposed. One decision he had made while on Earth was very simple—there would be no more violent displays like the one that had precipitated his trip. Wolfram was clearly remorseful about hurting Greta, but other than that he seemed completely unrepentant. Yuuri, however, couldn't feel worse. He was ashamed of himself for ever allowing himself to engage in such…ill-mannered, bullying behavior. It was true that he had never been one to lash out at Wolfram, but he had matched him scream for scream in their shouting matches—his temper more easily provoked as the years had gone on.

"If you want to talk to me, Yuuri, it might be nice if you would face me instead of staring out the window at the man you really want."

Wolfram's accusation was well-founded, but Yuuri didn't feel guilty. Maybe he should, but how many years of repeating the same refrain, "_Wolfram, I just don't think about you that way…_" would it take for the blonde to realize that Yuuri's lack of affection for him had nothing to do with his sexual preference and everything to do with the fact that he would never be able to see Wolfram as anything other than a friend—a friend with a really questionable sense of tact, and an inflated sense of his own importance.

"I'm not staring at Gwendal, Wolfram. Even now, you imagine things that are just not there. I'm trying not to lose my temper. The last thing Gunter needs to do now is organize a clean up when the Maou goes ballistic and drenches the castle."

"So…you are determined to go on this little _trip_?"

"It is tradition, Wolfram. You know that. And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't mind going."

"And what about your _family_, Yuuri? Have you forgotten about us?"

"I've only just returned from taking my daughter to the doctor, Wolfram." Yuuri said quietly. "Is this really the road you want to go down? I don't think it is."

"You just don't understand."

"Then why don't you tell me what I'm missing."

"If you take this trip, Yuuri, then I'm coming, too. You're still my fiancé, and I'm not about to sit here while you take a little pleasure jaunt with my brother."

Yuuri continued to watch Gwendal as he strode through the ranks of his soldiers. Gunter, Conrad and Wolfram's now heated argument receded into the background as he concentrated on watching the General very carefully. One of Wolfram's current arguments was that Gwendal couldn't truly understand what it meant to have a family, because the older mazoku had no natural children of his own. However, watching as Gwendal stopped occasionally, resting a hand on the shoulder of a timid soldier, or straightening the uniform of a young man, it dawned on Yuuri that these men—all these men were Gwendal's children. He didn't know how many years, exactly, Gwendal had held the position of Chief General of Shin Makoku, but it had been years, many years before Yuuri had even been born—Probably even more years than his own father had been alive.

And it wasn't just the men in the army, but their wives, their children, their mothers and sisters—fathers and brothers. Yuuri's eyes flicked to the assembled families that had gathered to farewell their young men. All of these people, how many countless faces were the responsibility of his grim General? Every day, Gwendal made the decisions that sent Mazoku to their death or to their triumph. Every day, he wrote the letters to heartbroken mothers. Every night, therefore, he must live with the consequences of his decisions. Even though he was the King, the Maou, and ultimately the country might think that the responsibility fell on his shoulders, Yuuri knew the truth. Gwendal accepted that dark, bitter, thankless task for himself, keeping everyone else as untouched as possible by the cruel reality that was the cost of military prowess. Had he, Yuuri, ever heard Gwendal complain, even one time that his job was hard? _Never_. Had he, Yuuri, ever seen Gwendal pass off his responsibility, shirk his duty, or forget the importance of what it was that he had been charged to accomplish? _Never_.

Despite the grave danger the General was faced with, daily, he still managed to make time for Yuuri's young daughter—made time for his few friends, and even took a few moments to rest with a most assuredly undeserving Maou. These thoughts marched through Yuuri's mind, even as he watched Gwendal motion for the gates, then step back—his strong arms folded over his broad chest. He studied Gwendal's face, fully exposed to him from his position, and he saw his lover's expression change and the soldier's marched past his position. Until the very last man moved across his vision, Gwendal's somber expression held nothing but pride and complete assurance. Any soldier who looked on the General would feel taller than a giant, feeling the Mazoku's belief in them, heartened by his stance that reaffirmed his trust in them.

But, when he was faced with their backs, Yuuri saw Gwendal's face change, and it was then that he saw the heartbreak on the tall man's face. Yuuri suddenly realized that Gwendal had no desire for war—he didn't want to send those innocent boys so far from home, to defend borders, to quell malcontents with private axes to grind. Gwendal…hated his job, because he knew that his decisions meant that not every man he sent out the gates would return alive, and he would, once again, have to explain to a grieving father, mother, child, or widow that their loved one had offered up his life for the sake of Shin Makoku. Yuuri saw Gwendal's shoulders raise and lift as he sighed, saw the tormented look in his deep, indigo eyes as the General turned and their gazes locked over the distance. In that moment, Shibuya Yuuri, Harajuko Furi, twenty-seventh Maou of Shin Makoku, fell in love with his Excellency, the Lord Gwendal von Voltaire.

"No, Wolfram," Yuuri said, turning back to face his two close advisors and his steaming fiancé. His tone brooked no argument, and he noticed Conrad's slightly raised eyebrow, but he didn't stop to reassure his Nazukeoya. It was time he took responsibility for his life, too. "Starting right now, things are going change around here," he continued. "We are not children, Wolfram, and it's time we both started acting like grown ups. I am taking a trip with Gwendal—as soon as his schedule allows, and you are not coming with us. I suggest you spend that time trying to repair your relationship with Greta. We have a long way to go to make up for our rotten behavior in front of her, and it's best we get started. While I'm gone, you should think about what it is that you really want, Wolfram. And I'm warning you now, you better not just magically appear on the bend of the road someplace along my journey. I'm leaving Conrad and Gunter in charge of the castle while Gwendal and I are gone—and I don't want to hear anything about any drama when I get back."

"Your schedule is clear for the next two weeks, Heika," Gunter offered. "You will have to ask Gwendal about his, though, as I have not checked in with him yet today."

"Ok, I will. Conrad, did you—"

"Yes, Yuuri. It's in my room. Go ahead and get it whenever you've got time."

"Thanks," he whispered, smiling at his Nazukeoya. Out of everyone in the castle, Yuuri thought Conrad would understand what he was feeling the most. He hadn't wanted to leave his presents for Gwendal in his own room—for fear of incurring Wolfram's wrath. That fact alone was enough to make him blush again at his own insipid behavior. He brushed his fingers over his lips, remembering the brief, soggy kiss he'd shared with Gwendal earlier in the day. Maybe, if he was really lucky, there might be a repeat performance of that in his future.

"We're done here," Yuuri announced, walking to the door. "I'll see you all at dinner if not before."

There was only one thing on his mind right now, and it came in the form of a blue-eyed demon possessed of an iron will and the softest lips in all of Shin Makoku.

--O.o.O—

Gwendal tried to concentrate on his knitting, but he slipped three stitches before he just gave up and put the project to the side. He had tossed his coat over his bed, and was trying to relax, but the headache that was his constant companion refused to be subdued. He'd tried some of Doria's special tea before he came upstairs to his room—no help. The reassuring comfort he usually found in his needlework also deserted him. So, he sat in his chair and stared at nothing. His mind's eye simply played him an image of battle and the broken bodies of innocent young mazoku, over and over again in a repetitive loop. Granted, things had gotten much better since Yuuri-heika had arrived, but he was still uneasy. He was not paid to be an optimistic man, and if he was dour…well, there was a reason for it.

Someone knocked on his door. He half opened his mouth to growl at them to leave, but thought better of it. He just stared at the wall and didn't answer. Damn, but the person was persistent, the knocking starting to grate on his already ragged nerves. Thinking that perhaps a good shout at Gunter might improve his temper, he stormed out of his chair and yanked his door open. Standing there, with wide eyes, and clutching a lumpy parcel, was the Maou.

"Hi, Gwendal." The young man's gaze darted back and forth, stopping to take in Gwendal's current state of dress, and the state of his room. The General swallowed and waited.

"It looks like maybe you were resting. I'm sorry if I disturbed you…I can come back."

"No," Gwendal said sharply, making his own head throb. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. What I mean is, you're welcome here, Heika. Please come in."

He stepped to the side, and the Maou slipped past him. The younger man took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "I like your room," he said. "Very comfortable."

"Mm." Gwendal said, not knowing what else he should say. The maou was staring at him, a completely new expression in his eyes and to be honest, it made the General feel a little wary. The young man had never appeared so…happy to be near him, at least not this happy. Though, he supposed that wasn't true. He was perfectly happy when Gwendal had held him close—but it was what was lacking that was different. The King didn't appear to be afraid of him.

"What do you have there?" he asked, still unsure how to proceed. He knew what he wanted to do, but he didn't think the King would appreciate it if he just grabbed him and buried his face in the younger man's neck and just closed his eyes.

"Oh, just some presents I got for you while I was on earth." The Maou was looking at him now, his head cocked to the side and a thoughtful expression on his face. "You're really hurting, aren't you?"

Gwendal almost missed his question, he was so drawn into the depths of Yuuri-heika's lovely eyes. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stepped back. "It's just a headache," he replied, his voice much rougher than he had intended it.

Instead of shrinking from him, the young King nodded, his eyes now filled with concern, even empathy, and something else that Gwendal didn't want to name.

"May I…?" The Maou asked, putting his parcel on the floor at his feet and hesitantly reaching his hand toward Gwendal's face.

The General trusted his King, there was never a question of that, but this was a more intimate gesture than he was used to from anyone, especially the young man. His headaches were probably common knowledge, but, he didn't exactly want to be fawned over—except, in the deep recesses of his heart, he really did. Was it so wrong to want just a little comforting?

"All right," he said. The King smiled at him, brushed his slim fingers over Gwendal's forehead, then took his hand and led him over to his bed.

"Go ahead and take your boots off," the Maou said. "And just relax. I'm going to draw the curtains, ok? Sometimes light can make a headache worse, I know."

Because there was no way the young man was propositioning Gwendal for anything beyond a little relief from his current pain, he didn't object to his majesty's unusual request. He pulled his boots off, and stretched back on his bed, his eyes only half closed so he could watch the King draw his curtains, then come back to the bed. The young man stopped long enough to take something from his bag.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a heating pad. A lot of them use electricity, but we don't have that there, though I bet they could be powered with majutsu. Maybe I'll ask Anissina." The king looked thoughtful, but his expression soon reflected the same horror that Gwendal felt when he considered what perversions his oldest friend might visit upon an innocent little earth invention. "Anyway," he continued. "This one is battery operated, and that means we can use it here. I thought it might help with your tension."

"How does it work?" Gwendal continued, still suspicious.

"It just warms up gently, and the heat makes your muscles feel good. Like a bath does, but you can use it when you can't have a bath."

"I love baths," Gwendal said, quietly, closing his eyes.

"I've noticed that about you," the King replied, his voice just as soft, as he slipped behind Gwendal and urged the taller man to settle comfortably, his upper body supported by the younger man's slim frame. The Maou tugged at his shirt, and Gwendal got the hint, leaning forward and pulling the garment off over his head. The air felt cool on his skin, but he didn't mind. Soon, he felt a strange, soothing warmth settle over the back of his neck. The Maou was right…this heating pad thing had possibilities.

"Just relax, ok?" The king said, his mouth very close to Gwendal's ear.

And, just how was he supposed to relax now that he was more focused on the feeling of the Maou's lips brushing across his sensitive neck as the young man moved instead of his headache? Then, he felt the most blissful sensation he had ever experienced. He knew it was the Maou's healing majutsu washing over him, curing him, restoring him. That, coupled with the young man's surprisingly strong fingers gently kneading the tight muscles of his shoulders over the top of the heating pad threatened to melt Gwendal into a large puddle.

"Better?" The Maou asked, still massaging his shoulders.

Gwendal made a sound, which he hoped sounded as contented as he felt, but he was sure it was completely incoherent. He couldn't remember when he had felt this good, in fact. At least physically. He knew the Maou had his limitations—he couldn't erase Gwendal's concerns, but apparently he had the solution to his headaches.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes," the king said, laughing gently.

The young man eased himself from behind Gwendal, stepping gingerly down onto the floor. Before he could move from the side of the bed, Gwendal shot his arm out and pulled the Maou back to his side. He wasn't sure if it was desire or desperation that drove his actions, but all he really knew was that he didn't want to let the handsome king leave his side. It was selfish, completely inappropriate, and he'd probably regret it at some point, but, he was already wrapping his arms around the Maou as the king hit the mattress.

"Don't go…Yuuri," Gwendal whispered, his voice breaking on the King's name. He had promised himself so faithfully, so assiduously that he wouldn't make this mistake. He knew the Maou's heart was engaged, or at least wasn't completely free, but…he didn't want to be parted from him. He couldn't explain what it was that drove him, not really, and maybe it was just a combination of the tension between himself and his youngest brother, the pain he felt—and yes, it had been pain—when the Maou was on Earth, and the feeling of loss he always felt when he had to send out a new regiment of soldiers, and maybe he just…wanted something for himself, selfishly, for once, he just wanted to hold onto the young man for no other reason than to take some comfort. He didn't know how to express everything he was thinking so he just repeated himself. "Please don't go."

To his unending surprise, he felt the Maou turn in his arms, snuggling close to him and then he felt a shy kiss pressed to his collar bone—the gesture causing his eyes to fly open. "Yuuri?" he asked.

"I…I like it when you call me by my name," he said softly, reaching up to pull the tie from Gwendal's hair so that his hair spilled over his chest to cover them in a dark, shadowy curtain. "I had wanted to ask you, if you want to that is, if you have time to take our trip to the temple soon?"

Gwendal quickly called his schedule to mind. There was nothing of immediate importance that he couldn't rearrange. "I'm at your disposal, Yuuri, whenever you want to go. It will take several days, though." He brushed his hand over the Maou's face, almost sighing when the younger man nuzzled his palm.

"Then can we leave in the morning. I want…to spend some time with you. I know it will sound silly, but, I missed you when I was gone."

The king's very shy confession set Gwendal's heart pounding in his chest. He was too old for this, he told himself firmly. He was too old to be so moved by the simple gesture of holding a handsome young man in his arms, too old to be excited by the idea of spending an extended period of time in that young man's company, and definitely too old to be feeling this…attached. But, the knowledge that the King had missed him, and wanted to be with him made him feel...special. It surprised him—the fact that he wanted, almost more than anything, to be important to the Maou. And not because he was his General and advisor, but because he was a man, a flesh and blood demon.

"Four days was too long," Gwendal confessed, glad that the darkened room hid his blush. "I...I missed you, too."

"Then, next time we'll go together, all right?"

Gwendal could see the doubt in the young man's eyes—as though he almost feared rejection. But, how could that be? Gwendal had never rejected the King, argued perhaps, but he'd never rejected the young man. He remembered Gunter's words. Perhaps his best friend had been right—was he really so intimidating, so harsh that the king still doubted how he felt, or his commitment to both his king and his country?

"I'll go with you anywhere," he promised, trying to show the King the depth of his vow with a gentle hand against his face. "Just tell me where you want me, Yuuri, and I'll be there. Tell me what to do to make you happy, and I'll try my best to make it happen. I…am not good with words, I've told you before. But, I am better with…actions. I can do…whatever you want."

"Right now, I just want to stay here with you, until we have to face the world again."

"Close your eyes," Gwendal whispered, brushing his fingertips against the Maou's neck, feeling the young man's pulse jump under his touch. When the King's eyelids lowered, his dark lashes feathering out over his skin, Gwendal leaned down and pressed his lips against the fine line of the King's jaw, then slowly traced a line with his mouth until he reached his lips. "Hold onto me, Yuuri," he whispered, just before he brought his lips down to kiss the Maou. "I'll keep you safe, here, with me until we have to leave, and even after that—if you'll let me."

The king answered his near-plea with his lips, leaning up to meet Gwendal's kiss with his own inexperienced, but heartfelt touch. It had been a long time since Gwendal had felt the touch of another person's hands on his skin, or knew the taste of another person's mouth on his tongue. Still, he remembered what it was like and he knew that what he was experiencing now eclipsed anything he'd ever felt before. The brief contact he'd had with the King in Shinou's temple was nothing compared with this—that had been chaste at best, rushed at worst, and had nothing of the passion now flowing between himself and the beautiful man in his arms. He knew what he was doing could lead to pain for them both—so many variables to be considered. None of that seemed to matter though, when he felt the first tentative strokes of Yuuri's hands on his back, and the curious questions asked by the young man's mobile lips on his own. Oh, yes, he was far too old to be laying on his bed, trading fevered touches with a young man less than half his age, behaving more like a hormone-driven adolescent than the head of a noble family, but just at that moment, all he wanted to think about was how good it felt to be wanted, and the only sound he wanted to hear was Yuuri's delicious moans whenever Gwendal struck upon a sensitive spot. He loved the sensation of Yuuri's fingers tangling in his hair, dragging him closer whenever he shifted, the feeling of the Maou's nails scraping lightly over his skin, causing little shivers to race down his spine. He didn't push Yuuri any further than the young man was ready to go—and Gwendal knew he could have taken this much further, but it wasn't right, not yet. However, his own heart was pounding against his ribs and he was shocked to realize that he had been utterly mistaken in his assessment of the Maou's emotions. And for once, the top officer in Shin Makoku's military was overjoyed to be wrong.

--O.o.O—

Conrad stood when the Maou and his eldest brother came into the dining room, as did the rest of the group assembled at the table. They were still playing host to the foreign dignitaries from Caloria, and while the visit was official, it was more relaxed than many others tended to be, since Shin Makoku and Caloria continued to enjoy friendly relations. And, by the look of the two men coming to the table, those weren't the only friendly negotiations currently underway. He chanced a look at Gunter, and saw the stars practically shining in his beautiful, former teacher's eyes. Gwendal looked…younger, if such a thing was possible. And Yuuri was the picture of blushing happiness. Conrad smiled, reaching out to hold the chair for his Maou as Gwendal separated from the King's side to take his normal place at the other side of the table. The knight didn't miss the subtle brush of Gwendal's fingers against Yuuri's, or the young ruler's stroke in reply. _Silent communication_? It wasn't looking good for his bet, but it was looking very good for his King, and that's all Conrad truly cared about.

Conrad knew he wasn't the only to notice the current state of affairs. Gunter's smile was too generous, too beatific, and if that wasn't enough, the shy glances that Yuuri sent to Gwendal while he kept up his share of the conversation said as much as a formal announcement would have. Then, of course, there was the way Gwendal would, somewhat uncharacteristically, defer to the Maou's opinion. Sure, it only happened once, but even that was a change from normal. Yuuri was seated, as he normally was, between Conrad and Wolfram, and his younger brother spent much of the meal red-faced and very quiet—his expression more thoughtful than angry. Conrad felt a sudden stab of sympathy for his little brother. He knew what it was like to want someone who could never be yours. He knew that their stories were slightly different—after all, Julia had been engaged to Adelbert, not him, and he had been the one to hold her confidence. He had been blessed again, he realized, when he was offered the opportunity to see Julia's soul move on, and he had found in Yuuri the complete happiness he had been searching for, for so long. His romantic attachments might change over time, but his first and strongest bond was with his King—and they were closer than anyone else could understand. Wolfram, however, had something of the opposite problem, with the same end result. He was engaged to Yuuri, but the King had never felt the affection for him that his youngest brother desired.

Yuuri had liked him especially in the beginning, but even those amicable feelings were beginning to fade under the pressure that Wolfram forced on the young Maou to marry. Yuuri had simply never fallen in love with him, and Conrad supposed that was hard for his brother to accept considering that all he need do is snap his fingers and almost anyone in the kingdom would fall at his feet. For example, the young mazoku woman, a Radford child, attached as a diplomatic attaché to the Caloria delegation was currently staring at Wolfram as though he'd created the world with his own two hands—but his blonde brother took no notice of her. He either stared at his plate, answering inquiries with a perfunctory politeness, or glared at Gwendal when he thought no one was watching. Conrad pushed his food around his plate with his fork. Maybe this trip was just what was called for—Wolfram might be able to come to terms with his new situation easier if Yuuri and Gwendal were absent.

So, dinner passed with little fanfare, and Conrad breathed a sigh of relief when the party broke up to return to their assigned quarters. He overheard a snippet of conversation between Gwendal and Yuuri as he passed his brother's office, on his way to his own room. It appeared that the Maou intended on staying in his own room for the night, in case Greta decided she didn't want to sleep alone. Then the silence that descended—punctuated by soft sighs and undecipherable whispers—warmed his heart, but hastened his steps. The _last_ thing he wanted was to be caught eavesdropping on his eldest brother's assignations with his lover.

He was barely back in his room, having stopped for a lengthy nightcap with Gunter to discuss the potential ramifications the proposed trip for Gwendal and Yuuri might have for them all, when a loud explosion shook the very foundations of the castle. Barefoot, his shirttail trailing behind him and his sword held before, Conrad raced through the corridors—every sense screaming in him to get to the Maou. He was not the first to arrive on the scene, Gwendal was already there, hurling stones and rubble to the side as he dug his way into the collapsed structure that had once been the Maou's chamber. Conrad turned, quickly assigning duties to the soldiers that had gathered, then went back to helping Gwendal move the debris from the slight opening he could see. The soldier knew that his brother possessed more than enough Mayoku to blast away the wreckage, but if there was a structural weakness, he would wind up collapsing the entire ceiling on Yuuri's head.

"He's all right, Gwendal," Conrad whispered, struggling with a particularly stubborn piece of wall. "I would know if he was…"

"Don't say it," Gwendal growled, through clenched teeth. "Don't you even dare think it."

Suddenly Conrad felt the weight lift from his hands as Gwendal closed his eyes, lifting his hand and using a barrier to lift the stone up from the floor. He deposited it carefully down the hall—out of the way.

"Heika!" Gunter gasped as he skidded to a halt and began to pick his way through the debris-field. "Where is he?"

"We don't know yet," Conrad answered, looking at his brother, overwhelmed with concern. "What about Wolfram and Greta? Were they with Yuuri?"

"No," Gunter answered, also tossing the stones that blocked his way to his beloved heika with a strength that never failed to surprise Conrad. "Wolfram is with the princess right now. Apparently they were with Cheri-sama, having stories before bed."

"Get out of my way, both of you," Gwendal growled, perspiration shining on his brow. "Heika! Can you hear me?" He shoved a few more stones out of the way, until he had cleared a space large enough for him to squeeze through.

Conrad waited only as long as it took Gwendal's boots to disappear, then he followed his brother through the hole. He heard Gunter order the soldiers to continue to clear the door way. Conrad stood up, there was still enough room in the partially collapsed room, but debris was covering the window, and there was no light. Gunter solved that problem, however, with a burst of light drawn from his maryoku. Conrad's heart stopped, just stopped, when he saw Gwendal holding Yuuri's limp form against his chest. His older brother was making a strange sound, sort of like a choking cough as he rocked the Maou in his arms. Conrad realized Gwendal was crying, and as shocking as that was, he couldn't wait—and interrupted his brother's private pain.

He knelt on the opposite side of the King, gently reaching out to touch his Yuuri's face. While he was much too pale, his skin was warm, and Conrad could feel breath against the back of his hand when he held it near the Maou's nose.

"He's alive, Conrad," Gwendal said, his voice cracking but still stern. "Move back, let him breathe."

Conrad hesitated, then moved back an inch. It was as far as he was willing to go, no matter what his elder brother commanded. Tears of relief sprang to his eyes. "We're not too late."

Gwendal looked away, dashing his tears away against the sleeve of his shirt. "Get that doorway clear," he shouted toward the already working soldiers. "And get Gisela up here, right now!"

Gunter took his place at Yuuri's head, then carefully, and very slowly reached out—more to give Gwendal time to adjust, Conrad thought than any need for caution—and let his own healing majutsu enter the Maou. Gunter was a powerful mazoku, but his abilities did not rival the Maou's in this particular area. Still, his were even more powerful than his adopted daughter's talents. Within a few moments, the Maou's eyelids cracked, then opened.

"What happened?" he asked, even as the soldiers broke through the debris and light flooded into the room, making the Maou squint. It was much brighter than the glow Gunter had provided.

"There was an explosion, Yuuri," Conrad said, brushing dust from his face. "Gwendal found you, and you were out cold. We're waiting to get you out and then Gisela will look you over. Gunter already gave you some of his maryoku."

"Explosion?" Yuuri repeated. "But…what about…everyone else? Is anyone else hurt? Gwendal…? Are you ok? Say something!"

"I don't know yet, Heika." Gwendal replied, gravely. "I came to you first, but the damage seems pointed and quite specific. I believe you are the only casualty. I'm sorry, Heika. I'm very sorry. I should have…I have failed you."

"If you were really sorry, you'd call me Yuuri."

Conrad couldn't help it, he chuckled, earning him a shocked glare from his brother and Gunter, both. "If you're well enough to pout, Yuuri, I have confidence that you're going to live."

"Yuuri," Gwendal whispered, holding him tighter to his chest. "I'm going to take you to Gisela. Don't try to move. I'll carry you."

"I think I'm ok, Gwendal, really." The maou said, trying to smile.

"Please, just this one time, don't argue…Yuuri."

"All right," the King said, winding his arms around Gwendal's neck. "Just this one time."

Conrad smiled to himself, the initial fear having passed and his slow burning rage beginning to build. When he found the party responsible for this attack on his special boy, he wouldn't have to kill them himself, though he would take great pleasure in it. He exchanged a look with Gunter, and knew his friend was on the same track. No, they wouldn't have to dispense justice in the name of the King. They need only hand the responsible ones over to Gwendal. Such a fate was too terrible to even contemplate—and no less than the criminals deserved.

* * *

_OK, chapter five is in the books. I rather like the romantic Gwendal, with all his brooding and hesitancies, and it looks like things are heating up in all directions for my favorite grumpy demon. Just a few notes, though—twitty—Wow, how great to hear from you! I loved your review as always, and I think you make a valid point considering Gwendal and his possibly being completely closed off because of a love-affair gone wrong. While I have hinted at this throughout the chapter, I happen to agree with you on an important point—no one is going to, so many, many years after the fact, be completely devastated by a bad breakup. Sometimes, things go wrong and it sucks for a while, maybe even a long while, but I think Gwendal has many reasons for being so closed off—one important one of which I addressed in this chapter—Yuuri's realizations about Gwen's character. I think that everyone ELSE though is perfectly happy to pigeonhole Gwendal because he's quiet and keeps his opinions to himself, mostly. I suppose, in part, I'm trying to show that Gwendal is misunderstood by a lot of people, even in his own family, and that there is more to him than just what they might think. So far, I think Yuuri is beginning to get it—which is as it should be. Anyway, the breakup will be addressed, but his reticence and hesitancy goes a lot deeper than that, which I think, ultimately, will make him a stronger, more devoted and loyal lover once he finally does admit what he feels. Ok, so, enough notes on this one…I'll be posting chapter six at some point next week. For now, I'm off to answer reviews, try to catch up on LTM, and…apparently I need to pop out to the store and grab some Kleenex for Strega. Teehee. Thank you so much for reading! I'm really starting to feel a little better, so I'm only taking two more days off work, then I'll be back on my feet. I look forward to hearing your thoughts, as always, and next chapter's highlight is the trip to Doone…and a houseparty. Yep. A houseparty. Take care everyone. I'll be seeing you…_


	6. Chapter 6

_So, Notes—_

_First—I owe everyone mail, I know it and I must apologize for having dropped off the face of the earth. I'd like to tell you that I was flushed into Shin Makoku, but, the truth is not quite as…anime. Some of you know, but some of you do not, that I have a young son who is severely autistic. Sometimes, my little guy forgets that he's a little boy and seems to think he is a monkey. This past week, he climbed up onto the tall shelf in his closet (he really is amazingly nimble—I had no idea he could do that), and he fell off the shelf, gashing his head open severely. He needed a large number of staples in his scalp to close the wound, and I was a very, very, very upset Neko. Because of his communication deficits, he needed my attention this entire time, but I am glad to say that he is better now, out of the hospital, his staples have been removed and he is back to his cheerful self. I am, now, finally well, too, and am back to writing and working. So, we will return to regularly updating both fics, and I anticipate this one being completed by the first week of November, if not before._

_Please, please forgive my not answering mail, therefore, or getting any updates out—my hands were full of little boy and my computer was the last thing on my mind. _

_Also, Last chapter, it appears that I have written it in such a way that many readers thought Gwendal was crying because he thought Yuuri was dead. That was not my intention at all, and another reader hit my main points on that in a PM on that topic as well. Actually, as I was writing that scene—in my head, I knew Gwendal knew he was alive…He was holding him and would have felt both heartbeat and breath. As to the reason Gwendal was crying, I think it was simply because he was 1. relieved that Yuuri was alive, and 2. now that Yuuri has become so important to him, the idea of losing him is much more personal. There is a scene coming up later that may explain this better. Anyway, having re-read that passage, I can see where it could be confusing, and that is completely my fault as a writer, so I will be editing those sentences. If you are so inclined, check after chapter 7 is posted, and they will have changed. I do, however, stand behind the fact that Gwendal cries…because it's been a long time since he's allowed himself to care, and even his iron control will break from time to time. Otherwise…here we go, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

**Chapter Six: You get what you give…**

Gwendal von Voltaire was used to controlling his emotions. He had seen horrors so chilling that lesser men would have broken in the face of such terror. He had experienced the height of victory, and met it with the same stoic fatalism that he showed in every aspect of his life. However, carrying the slight form of his Maou, feeling the young man tremble as they moved, the grim-faced General had to consciously control his shaking arms. He was not taxed in any physical sense—the Maou's weight was immaterial to him—but the idea that he had come so close to losing Yuuri, and that Shin Makoku had nearly lost her Maou, made him nearly sick. He knew that anger couldn't begin to describe his expression, considering that grown, battle-hardened soldiers fled before him as he brought the Maou to the temporary infirmary that Gisela had set up only a short distance from Yuuri-heika's chamber.

"Bring him in here," the healer said softly.

Gwendal carefully placed Yuuri on the cot, ignoring the younger man's disdainful smirk. The Maou might well believe himself to be fine, but the General wasn't going to be satisfied until he had a medical clearance for him—and possibly not even then.

"Gisela," the Maou said, smiling. "I'm all right, really. Just a little shaken up. Has anyone else been hurt?"

"There are no other casualties that we have yet discovered," the young woman said, returning the Maou's smile, but indicating with her body language that he wasn't going anywhere until she had a better look at him.

A physical examination revealed the Maou was a very lucky young man, indeed. While he had a bruise and a sore spot on his head from where he'd been hit bit a chunk of debris—causing him to lose consciousness—he had no signs of concussion. His senses and reflexes tested normal, and he seemed to have sustained no lingering damage. Gwendal's feeling of relief upon hearing this news was both great, and short-lived. He was very pleased that Yuuri was well, but his brain was already tackling the puzzle of how the attack had been orchestrated, why the Maou had been targeted, specifically, this time, and what he was going to do with the culprits once he had them in hand.

"Gwendal?" The Maou tugged on his sleeve.

Gwendal looked down to see the King staring up at him, his black eyes full of worry. "Yes, Heika?"

"Your…Your face." The young man swallowed, still resting a gentle hand on Gwendal's wrist. "Your expression is so…harsh. What are you thinking?"

"I'm considering how to handle the perpetrators of this crime once they are in custody."

"Ah." The King's expression remained concerned, though for a different reason, now, it seemed and he lowered his voice. "I want to talk to you about that, privately, when we can. I have a few ideas about what's going on. I'd like you to consider them as you investigate this."

"Of course," Gwendal replied, matching the soft quiet of his tone to the King's. "If you have insight into this, Heika, then I want to know. You need to rest, though, as well."

"I don't exactly have a bedchamber to go back to, Gwendal."

"You could…use my room. You have access to my chambers whenever you so desire, Heika."

The Maou frowned, and glanced over Gwendal's shoulder. "I…know. And I appreciate it, but I don't think it's a good idea. Until we talk, though, I don't want you spending time there either. For now, I think we should go to your office."

Gwendal started to object, but Yuuri put a hand on his arm. "Just trust me for now, ok? Maybe I'm being too hesitant, but, don't you think it's better to err on the side of caution?"

"Very well," Gwendal conceded, now curious as to what the Maou was thinking.

"Gisela," the King asked. "Am I ready to be released?"

"You need to rest, Heika," Gisela replied, smiling as she re-entered the room. "But as long as you stay off your feet and there is no more excitement tonight, I think it will be all right."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Gwendal said, ending the discussion before it could begin.

"Very good, your Excellency."

Gwendal had always appreciated Gisela's skills and even temper when it came to times of crisis. Privately, he had always thought she embodied the best character traits of her adoptive father, and he held Gunter in a very high esteem—regardless of what appearances might be from time to time.

The Maou insisted on walking, and while Gwendal was not pleased with letting the young man out of the safety of his arms, he knew that he could not walk about the castle carrying the king on his hip as though he were a child, so Gwendal merely took his place at Yuuri-heika's side and escorted him to his office. Once they were inside, and alone, Gwendal closed the door, leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest.

"What are you thinking, Heika?" Gwendal asked.

"It's Yuuri," the young king replied, absently, without any real tone of censure.

The Maou crossed to the window and stared outside. Gwendal could see his face reflected in the glass—the King's lips were pursed, his expression pensive, thoughtful.

"I have been thinking, since I woke up, about…confluences."

"I…I don't quite follow," Gwendal said, watching the king carefully.

"Well, it's just that this attack…these attacks…seem to have come out of nowhere. Our foreign policy has not changed and our political relationships have been remarkably stable. I haven't made any serious gaffes recently, well, except for that one at the wedding…but I don't regret the outcome of that," the maou's voice drifted away on a soft whisper, and Gwendal could see the barest hint of a smile on his lips. Despite everything that had happened, a strange, unfamiliar glow of happiness lit in the General's chest. A simple statement, but he found he liked the reassurance. He cut off his own musing and cleared his throat, urging the Maou to continue.

"The only thing that has really changed, therefore, is our relationship." The king took a deep breath. "Possibly it's more the perception of our relationship by others that is more to the point. When we went to that wedding party together, we left here as escort and King, right? I mean, you were standing in for Wolfram as far as anyone knew, yes?"

"That's right," Gwendal replied, waiting to see the path of the King's sometimes convoluted logic.

"And our journey there was completely uneventful. However, at the end of the evening, I got drawn into a trap—social though it may have been, and possibly unimportant at the end—and really, before I go any further, I can't believe people get so upset over things like who dances with whom and when!" The Maou shook his head, and then turned to face Gwendal. There was a bruise already darkening along the left side of the younger man's face, and it took every ounce of willpower the stoic General possessed not to gather the King back into his arms and press his lips gently to the offended flesh in an attempt to kiss it better.

Instead, Gwendal merely nodded.

"So, I kissed your hand and it must have taken us at least another two hours before we were truly, safely tucked in the carriage, right?"

"That's a good estimate."

"Time enough to sabotage the carriage then."

"True," Gwendal conceded.

"And, you assumed, I guess we all did, that the attack was aimed at me."

"I think the fact that this second attempt was made in your private chambers is corroboration of that." Gwendal replied, pressing his shoulders into the heavy wood door. He didn't like the turn this conversation was taking.

"Is it?" The Maou looked at him, and for the first time outside of what the king liked to call his _Maou-mode_, Gwendal could see the terrible knowledge in the young man's eyes—that wisdom that usually only came to the eyes of those that had seen far too much in their lives. The eyes of the Maou.

"Consider this, Gwendal." The Maou held up his hands and ticked his points off on his fingers, eerily reminiscent of what Gwendal had done himself in the carriage before the accident. "I announce you as my lover. My carriage is sabotaged before a trip which you _happen_ to be taking with me—something you have never done unless under extreme duress. We are uninjured, and return to the castle—separately. The situation calms a slight bit, we take a walk and I fall asleep, so do you, in plain view of anyone who cared to be observing, and in each other's arms, as well. Then, I am on Earth—nothing happens while I am away…"

"More proof that these attacks are aimed at you, Your Majesty."

The Maou frowned and Gwendal fought the urge to bite his lip. The young man was, apparently, quite determined when it came to his name. "Do you disagree…Yuuri?" Gwendal amended.

"Well, I just find it interesting that the very day I return, after having spent time with you in your chambers—again, no secret there, but my return date was not fixed so it would have been hard to prepare an _accident_ at that time, but, after dinner? I was eating, with you and the others, which gives plenty of time, and after that, I was with you…here…and would have spent longer if it hadn't been for the late hour…"

Again the Maou's voice trailed off and Gwendal could see the king was remembering their shared kisses—with the same pleasure that the General had felt. "Then you returned to your room, alone, Heika. And the trap was sprung."

"But, at a distance, no doubt," the young ruler replied softly. "I sensed no one—and even if my ability to ferret out dangers is not as highly tuned as yours or Conrad's, I've gotten a lot better over the years. There was no one in the immediate area, and the damage to my chamber was too severe for it to have been safe for the attacker to be very close."

"I will grant you that point," Gwendal said softly, moving, finally, away from the door. He felt drawn to the Maou—had an overwhelming need to be by the king's side, shielding the young king with his body—but against what danger he couldn't name for sure. He contented himself, therefore, with moving the Maou away from the window, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as they stared at the fire, neither looking at the blaze.

"You and I are not…lovers." The Maou stumbled over the word and his blush made Gwendal's heart ache—he was so very adorable. "But…But everyone thinks we are, and more importantly, I think, whoever is behind these attacks believes we are. Wouldn't it have made sense, therefore, that once we left each other here—after you had finished your work, which is your habit, that you join me in my chambers? It is painfully obvious to the entire staff and every inhabitant of the castle that Wolfram is no longer resident in my rooms."

"So…." Gwendal sighed, a new weight coming to bear on his shoulders. "What you are telling me is that you believe these attacks are not aimed at you personally, but aimed at both of us, together. But, why, Heika? Why would it matter who you take to your bed? Maou's have had a long, long history of colorful love affairs and…_interesting_…tastes. Why should yours matter at all?"

The Maou looked up, his eyes wide and his embarrassed flush still stained his cheeks. "Because….because it's not just anyone, Gwendal. It's _you_!"

The General frowned, trying to follow the king's twisted logic. He knew there was a thread somewhere, but, he really didn't think the young man was on the right track.

"Look, do you remember when I first came to Shin Makoku, and Stoffel-sama was always trying to ingratiate himself to me, or kidnap me?"

Gwendal's frown deepened at the mention of his scheming uncle. He not only remembered the man's behavior, but had also added those insults to the growing list as to why he held a grudge against the former regent.

"I remember," Yuuri whispered, reaching out and taking Gwendal's hand in both of his, playing with the tall Mazoku's fingers as though to distract himself. Gwendal almost pulled away, and not because he didn't like it, but rather, he found that he very much liked when the King touched him now—in these unguarded moments when Yuuri might not even realize what he was doing.

"I remember you telling me about Stoffel-sama, and how much I wanted to help repair the rift in your family. And I remember your warnings too. Mostly, I remember over-hearing some of his planning. He was terribly jealous and worried that you three brothers—Conrad, Wolfram, and You—as well as Gunter, because of his closeness with all of you—would have undue influence over me, and that you four would run me as a puppet—thereby ruling Shin Makoku through me. You remember, right?"

"It is common knowledge that those events never came to pass. You are your own king, a true Maou," Gwendal replied, deftly lacing his fingers through Yuuri's and giving the King's slight fingers a gentle squeeze.

"That's true, but it took a long time for Stoffel-sama to get over his fear. And now, the balance of power has shifted again, or at least, to some on the outside, it will seem that way. Not only am I, currently, engaged to Wolfram von Bielefeld, my Nazukeoya and closest confidant is Conrad Weller, Gunter von Kleist remains my loyal and close adjutant…but now…now I have publically taken Gwendal von Voltaire, arguably the most powerful man in Shin Makoku—despite the fact that you are not the Maou, as my lover. Gunter and Conrad have talked to me a lot about what that means, and how lovers truly are meant to be…the person a Maou would cherish and protect above all others. Wouldn't that…wouldn't that, to some, seem to make you all but invincible?"

"That's…absurd." Gwendal said, shaking his head. The logic, twisted though it was, made absolute sense and he didn't like the implications at all. A straight political assassination, while abhorrent, made a dark sort of sense, but targeting someone because he was in love, and chose to make that love public…? Even if it wasn't strictly true, that was still what the implication would be in the open, and the idea of someone objecting to his rise in the political world so strenuously that the person or persons would target and attack his beloved Maou…and his heart might have whispered something like, _his Yuuri_, made the General angry beyond any previous descriptive power of the term. There needed to be a new word to quantify the depth of his rage.

"I don't think it is," Yuuri whispered, tears beginning to streak down his face. "I think targeting me is merely a bonus, Gwendal…I guess whoever is doing this wants me gone, too, but I am certain that these attacks are more to get rid of _us_, together. It's not me, exactly, and it's not you, exactly, it's what we publically represent if we are united."

Gwendal waited. He turned the Maou's words over in his mind, examining the structure and implications of his sentences as though he was judging the quality of a fine gemstone. He prided himself, always, on being able to view problems from many angles, to discover and quell any plots or intrigues that might harm the King or Shin Makoku. How many years had it been, he wondered, since he stopped strictly working for the betterment of the country and began working for the good of one slim, black-haired boy with beautiful eyes and the most amazing smile? He hadn't even known until recently that he had gone so far, so it was likely an unprofitable path for his thoughts to take. However, despite his deep personal loyalty—which was unshakable—to Shibuya Yuuri, Gwendal had never forgotten his duty to his country. Considering the scenario that Yuuri had laid out, Gwendal had to admit that it was worth investigation. And he had to accept that whatever tentative strides he had made in possibly beginning a more personal relationship with the Maou might now be for nothing. If it was their status as lovers that had opened this vulnerability, then perhaps that status would have to change first. Gwendal harbored no illusions as to the boy's affections. They did not share a love that neither was willing to give up—they were forced into this situation and both were just trying to navigate the dangerous waters as best they could. Could any love, especially one in such an embryonic state, hope to survive such a crisis?

"Gwendal…?" Yuuri whispered, tugging on the General's sleeve.

Gwendal looked down to see sad, teary black eyes looking up at him, and lips trembling as the Maou held back fresh tears.

"You're going to tell me to dismiss you now, aren't you?"

Gwendal opened his mouth to refute the accusation, though the somber, resigned tone of the Maou's voice stopped him. He closed his lips and nodded.

"I won't," Yuuri whispered harshly. "I will not do that. It's not like it would change what has happened, and it wouldn't change the opinion of whoever is behind this, either. I refuse to give in on this—because we haven't done anything wrong! I could tell that's what you were thinking though—do you remember, when we were shackled together and standing in front of those judges, and you told me to just hurt you, to cut you, just so I could escape from that…creepy kangaroo court?"

"I…I remember."

"Well, I didn't cut you then, and I'm not going to dismiss you now. I just won't. So, you know, figure out some other way, ok?"

"Perhaps it would be better if you were to return to Earth—at least for as long as it takes us to bring these traitors to justice."

"Some brave King I'd be then, right?" Yuuri's frown was so deep that Gwendal couldn't help but lift his fingers to brush the corners of the Maou's mouth, smoothing away the angry lines of the young man's face. No one so beautiful should ever look so defeated. "You just don't get it, do you, Gwendal?"

"Tell me what I'm missing, Yuuri?" he replied, his throat feeling suddenly tight.

"I don't want to run away—not from this. I can't explain it really, but, first, they attacked my room. I sleep there. That's my place. And my daughter—my little girl _plays_ in that room. She comes to me to be soothed from nightmares, and sometimes climbs into my bed at night. What if Greta had been with me? I can take the rest of it—I mean, jeez, I'm almost used to someone throwing a knife at me, or someone trying to kidnap me, I kind of expect it—sort of a hazard of the job—but I am _NOT_ all right with Greta being hurt. And…" The Maou closed his mouth, turned his back on his General, and stopped speaking.

"And…what, Heika?" Gwendal prodded.

"Nothing," the young man muttered. "I mean, the idea that Greta might have been hurt is enough."

"You can tell me," Gwendal urged, putting his hands on Yuuri's shoulders and guiding the Maou until the young man's back rested against his chest. "There is something you want to say, Heika. What am I still misunderstanding?"

"It's just that…I _like_ you, Gwendal. And, I don't want any outside force dictating my life to me—or making my choices for me. I don't want to be controlled by fear. That's another thing you taught me. You taught me that when you lose yourself to fear, then you end up paralyzed….and even indecision…"

"…is a decision in and of itself," Gwendal finished. He couldn't count the number of times he had chastised the king with that phrase. "You are right, too, in that dismissing me will not end this current trouble. Logically I know that. I would…ask that you not fault me for wanting to protect you."

"I don't," The King whispered, reaching his hands up to touch Gwendal's fingers.

"Then what do you think we should do? I will take any of your opinions into account, Heika."

"I think we should confront this head-on, so to speak. I still want to go on our trip."

Gwendal's fingers flexed reflexively. "You want to make yourself an open target?"

Yuuri shook his head quickly and turned, giving Gwendal a small smile. "Nothing so dangerous as that, but, I think we should try to be as normal as possible—with your planning everything as you always do. I trust you to come up with a plan."

Gwendal bit his tongue and counted, very slowly, to one hundred. It was all he could do not to explode, but he knew that his temper was the last thing Yuuri needed to see at the moment. The idea was preposterous, and the General knew that he could count on Gunter and Conrad to back him up on that point, so there was no need to argue at this late hour.

"It's late," Gwendal said, forcing the growl out of his voice. "And you need to rest. I see now why you didn't want to go immediately to my room. I will have my chambers inspected before either of us go there. Still, you must get some sleep."

"What are you going to do?" The Maou asked, his head cocked to the side in that curious, inquisitive way he had that melted Gwendal's heart every single time he saw it. No doubt, the boy was going to be the death of him, yet.

"I intend to work, and to think, and to…as you say…come up with a plan."

"I could…that is, if you don't mind…I could just sleep here, on your sofa."

Gwendal nodded, pleased at the very least with this suggestion. He might be irritated, but he had no desire to let the King out of his sight. Too much had happened. Yuuri toed his shoes off, and lay down on the large sofa, while Gwendal rifled through his cabinets and found the blanket he'd knitted some years before and kept in his office just in case he decided to rest there during times of war, or periods of heavy work. He covered the slightly shivering form of the Maou, smiling a little on the inside when the younger man snuggled into the blanket and grinned up at him.

"I am sleepy," the Maou admitted.

"Then just close your eyes…Yuuri," Gwendal said softly, stroking the black hair from his brow. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

"I know you will," The King said, his eyes drifting closed. "I like knowing that."

Gwendal might have answered, but a reply seemed superfluous, so he settled for another stroke of his hand over the Maou's hair, then he sat down at his desk and turned his chair to stare into the blackness beyond his windowpane. He had a lot to think about.

It was several hours later, and the sun was just beginning to send tentative rays over the horizon, when Gwendal felt the sensation of eyes on him—eyes belonging to someone other than the Maou. He turned his chair, slowly, one hand ready on the hilt of his sword, to find a small pair of doe-brown eyes staring at him from the other side of his desk.

"What brings you here at this early hour, Greta?" he asked, his hand relaxing. "And how did you get inside my office so quietly?"

"Yozak has been teaching me how to be quiet," she replied, her expression still very serious. "And…and I wanted to see if Yuuri's ok…and I want to talk to you."

Gwendal nodded toward the sofa. Yuuri was snoring softly, still curled up under the blankets. "He's resting right now, but he's fine—he's not injured badly at all."

The little girl nodded, her serious gaze never wavering. "Are you Yuuri's boyfriend?"

"I…don't know what that term means," he said, surprised. He didn't know, exactly, but he had a pretty good idea.

"I'm not too sure, either, but I heard Uncle Shori say it when he and Yuuri were arguing about you at Grandma's house. I think it means that you and Yuuri are special friends."

"Well, if that is what it means, then, yes, I suppose I am. How do you feel about that?"

"That depends," Greta said, worrying her lip between her teeth—a gesture she learned from her black-haired father.

"On what, little one?"

"Well, Yuuri and Wolfram fight a lot. I love them both, a lot, but they fight. Are you going to fight with Yuuri now, too?"

Gwendal shook his head, wishing someone would come to his door or that Yuuri would wake up.

"Sometimes…Wolfram punches Yuuri in the head, and Yuuri shouts at Wolfram. Are you going to do that?"

Gwendal shook his head again. "No, I'm not going to hit Yuuri, ever."

"Do you like him?"

Gwendal nodded.

"Do you like him a lot?" she persisted.

Gwendal nodded again.

"If you like Yuuri, and he likes you…does that mean I can't love Wolfram anymore?"

"Wolfram is my youngest brother, Greta," Gwendal said slowly. "Someday, if you have a younger sibling of your own, then you will understand that I will never want anything but the best for Wolfram. He has raised you, along with Yuuri, since you were very little. I hope you will always love him, and I know he will always, always love you."

The little girl sat down in the chair on the opposite side of Gwendal's desk, looking very much like a tiny, but serious dignitary. "Will…will you still bake cookies with me, and teach me to knit, and take me for horseback rides?"

"Of course," Gwendal said firmly. "Nothing will change that."

"And…will you promise to always be kind to Yuuri? He never says anything when he thinks I can hear, but I know he's sad a lot of the time. I think he's lonely, the way I was before he adopted me. He loves everyone in Shin Makoku, and he loves us all a lot, but…sometimes I don't think he has a special someone to love him back. A grown up someone, I mean."

"What about Wolfram?" Gwendal asked, carefully.

Greta snorted. "They are silly together—and argue a lot, sort of like me and Doria's little brother. I mean, we're friends and everything, but he can really be a meanie."

"I see." Gwendal took a deep breath. "I promise to do my best to always be kind to Yuuri."

The little girl stared at him, and he felt slightly uncomfortable. He had been in negotiations that had decided the warring fate of Shin Makoku that hadn't been this tense.

"I'm glad you're Yuuri's boyfriend," Greta said finally, nodding her head once, sharply, in approval. Gwendal felt as though he'd just passed a major test. "But, I just want you to know that I'll be keeping an eye on you, Uncle Gwen."

"I expect nothing less," he replied, seriously, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

--O.o.O—

Conrad opened the door to his brother's office to see his niece shaking Gwendal's hand, clearly sealing some sort of agreement between the two. The little girl turned, grinned up at him and bounced across the room and into his open arms.

"Uncle Conrad," she gasped. "Did you hear that there was an accident in the castle last night, and Yuuri was almost really hurt!"

"I know," he replied, returning her exuberant hug. "But everything's all right now, and Gwendal found Yuuri right away and took him to Gisela. She says he's going to be just fine."

"What's that?" Yuuri asked, stretching and yawning. "Greta?"

Conrad released his niece so she could turn her bright attention onto her still-waking father. It warmed Conrad's heart every time he saw the two of them together, and the idea that someone had actively tried to sever that familial bond was something he couldn't think about without almost going into a rage. One look at his elder brother convinced him that Gwendal felt much the same. As the princess chattered with her father, alternately hugging his neck and checking his bruise, Conrad shared a look with his brother. It was clear that Gwendal had spent another sleepless night, and if this continued, Conrad wasn't sure how long even Gwendal's legendary stamina would hold.

After completely reassuring herself that Yuuri was all right, Greta announced that she was having a special breakfast with Wolfram and Cheri-sama. Yuuri offered to walk her to Wolfram's room, but the look of utter disdain on the girl's face was enough to make Conrad hide a laugh with a discreet cough. Apparently the princess had reached the age where walking hand in hand with a parent was a privilege to be sparingly doled out. As she scampered down the hall, they could all hear her cheery greeting for Yuuri's adjutant, so it was no surprise when Gunter appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning, Heika," the beautiful, lavender-haired demon said, smiling softly at the King. He nodded to Conrad and Gwendal, then closed the door behind him. His smile disappeared.

"It was an inside job, as you suspected, Conrad." Gunter said.

"That shouldn't surprise you, Gunter," Gwendal said, his voice weary. "There is no way anyone could get this close to the castle without some help from the inside. What have you discovered?"

"There were two guards found at midnight rounds, they died of their injuries before regaining consciousness. Whoever planned this is willing to sacrifice even accomplices to avoid detection."

"And what does that tell you, Heika?" Gwendal asked, this time turning his attention to the Maou.

Yuuri bit his lip. "I guess it means that they intend to try again."

Gwendal nodded. "And I think that's why we absolutely cannot take the trip you suggested last night."

The next hours were even more fraught with tension than the night previous as Conrad did his best to mediate between his seething elder brother and his equally stubborn Maou. Yuuri's theory had taken the soldier by surprise, but as they discussed the events of the last twenty-four hours, Conrad admitted that the ideas were not only sound, but made a great deal of sense. Unfortunately, adding Gwendal to the mix also meant a list of suspects that had grown exponentially. His eldest brother had always borne the brunt of the grueling dirty work when it came to politics and he had countless enemies to balance out the great number of his allies.

Privately, Conrad agreed that sending the head of the government and his top advisor out on a pleasure trip, where they would be openly exposed to any mischief the orchestrator of this current crisis might have in mind, was a hideously ill-conceived plan. However, he also knew that Yuuri wanted to draw danger away from the innocent inhabitants of the castle, most especially Greta, and it also seemed that in only the way Yuuri could be, the Maou thought that if he and Gwendal made several social calls on the way, that they could show that there was stability not only between the two of them personally, but that Shin Makoku's government remained as solid as ever.

Thus, the negotiations had begun.

Gwendal, at first, refused to hear anything about leaving the Castle. Yuuri was equally determined to leave that very morning.

After the first half hour, it was agreed that a trip would be taken, but the time of departure was delayed by a day. After the first complete hour, it was agreed that while Gwendal and Yuuri would appear to travel alone, well, as alone as any ruler ever travels, their small party would be supported by an almost invisible force of soldiers—_chosen and commanded by Conrad himself_—that would melt into the background and spread out a safety net that would hopefully trap the would-be assassins before another attempt could be made. The next hour began with Gwendal insisting that they travel to Doone and back without stopping. Yuuri held onto his plan of stopping at every village between here and there with an iron-grip. In the end, it was agreed that Yuuri and Gwendal would attend the large house-party being hosted by the Radford family, as well as taking two extended stays in larger villages on the way. For the duration of the house-party, only the private, royal guard would be visible, commanded by Gunter. Conrad would continue his operations as unobtrusively as possible.

With all the plans and logistics in place, Conrad stood to take his leave—there was much he would have to do to prepare. Gunter accompanied him, but only after Yuuri reminded them gently that it was past time for breakfast, and he was really hungry. Conrad was pleased, and not altogether surprised, that the Maou was starting to insist on maintaining the expected protocols when it came to spending time with his publically acknowledged lover. It might not have been clear to the two men in question, but the soldier could easily see that more flowed between Yuuri and Gwendal than mere passion for catching this malevolent plotter. He just hoped, and wished with every ounce of his own soul, that one of them wouldn't have to be injured before they recognized what it really was that was happening.

* * *

_OK, and there's chapter six. I know it's a bit slow-paced, but I think the conversation with Gwendal and Yuuri was really important at this point. In the next chapter, we dive right back into the action—another assassination attempt, and Wolfram's next move…Again, I'm really sorry about the delay, but I'm sure everyone understands that my little boy comes first. You know, 'cos he does! Thanks again for reading, and I'll get back to answering reviews, though I have no trust of FF's mail server. Thanks again for reading, and I promise, I'm not abandoning any stories! I'm just not built that way! I'll be seeing you…_


	7. Chapter 7

_Ok, a quick note. No, I haven't died…not at all, however, my computer? It wasn't so lucky. I had a feeling the end was close, but I've been nursing it along for some months now. I was actually planning on buying a new laptop at the conclusion of this story, however, it seems that my computer had other ideas. The good news is that this new machine seems to be shipshape. The bad news is that I've (temporarily I hope) lost all my email. I'm going to try and retrieve it all this afternoon. Now, I don't want to make you read any more notes as it's been so long since my patient readers have had an update. Oh, and finally, be warned…lemon scented chapter 8 goes up tomorrow….I'll see you at the bottom of the page…_

**Chapter 7: The Maou Takes a Holiday**

_Preparations._

Wolfram saw evidence of them throughout the castle. The maids were bustling back and forth, speaking in excited whispers as the newly constructed, specially refitted royal carriage rolled into the courtyard. Several soldiers immediately began to polish the brass fittings until they gleamed in the sun. Rumors, wagers, wild suppositions—all of those seemed to be the order of the day, and even his daughter, well…_Yuuri's_ daughter, Greta, had told him over breakfast that she had given his eldest brother her approval for him to be Yuuri's boyfriend. That news snapped the small thread of hope Wolfram carried, the one tied to the idea that this was all a bad dream. He left his mother and Greta at the table to seek the solace of his studio, but the large windows that usually provided both an inspiring view and natural light, had only revealed the worst scene to date: Gwendal and Yuuri seated together on the balcony outside Gwendal's office, chatting, it seemed, easily, over their breakfast.

_It was enough to make Wolfram nauseous._

_And it got worse._

Whatever invisible signal marked the end of the royal breakfast occurred, because both Gwendal and Yuuri stood. Gwendal didn't move, which was a good sign, but Wolfram's heart sank when Yuuri moved around the table to wind his arms around Gwendal's neck. His brother responded by grazing his fingers against Yuuri's face, then sliding his hand into Yuuri's hair, tipping his chin up. Wolfram could see the hint of the Maou's smile and imagined what they might be saying to one another—because he could see the movement of their mouths.

_Then the ultimate betrayal._

Gwendal bent toward Yuuri at the same time the Maou came up onto the tips of his toes. His brother's lips on _HIS_ fiancé's mouth felt like fire branding Wolfram's skin. It was like he had been punched—the air rushing from his lungs as his stomach cramped painfully. Still, he couldn't look away.

Wolfram von Bielefeld was not a raw youth. And he, unlike his fiancé, was not a virgin. He had witnessed more than his fair share of kisses—in pubs, and at gatherings, and had once even walked in on what was meant to be a private tryst between Yozak and some nameless green-haired soldier…but in all that he'd seen or experienced himself, Wolfram hadn't seen anything like this in a very long time. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he remembered his father…a tall, temperamental, but honorable demon. He remembered that once, when he was very small, and his father had been gone for several days in a row, when he returned, Wolfram's mother had leaned up on her toes to kiss him. Perhaps it was nothing more than a gesture to welcome Wolfram's father home, but, there was something about that kiss—so full of love and relief and something that the young Wolfram didn't understand, but the adult Wolfram certainly did—that had made the young prince just a little embarrassed to see it. He felt the same at this moment. He knew that witnessing this intimacy between his brother and Yuuri was an intrusion on something private, and something…_wonderfully rare_.

Embarrassment, however, soon gave way to hurt as Wolfram saw his fiancé practically melt into his older brother's embrace. He had known, of course, that Gwendal coveted anything small and cute, and he'd watched his older brother carefully whenever he and Yuuri were together—since Yuuri was the very definition of cute. However, nothing had happened for all these years. Wolfram could have kicked himself for ever letting his guard down. Didn't they care? Didn't they care at all that anyone could watch them—that the castle's maids were all probably hidden on the veranda below him conscientiously timing the length of the embrace and the exact motion of their joined lips? His fingers closed around his paintbrush, squeezing until the handle snapped in two. Yuuri had never looked at _him_ they way he was looking at Gwendal. Yuuri had never brushed _his_ bangs from his eyes with such tenderness, or smiled at _him_ like he was now smiling at Gwendal.

Working himself into a state of self-pitying anger, Wolfram tossed the remnants of his brush across his studio and tore his smock off. He was buckling his sword, his eyes still trained on his brother and Yuuri, about to leave his studio and confront the couple, when Gwendal finally released the Maou. That Yuuri leaned forward, following the tall demon so he could have yet another kiss, was a slice to Wolfram's heart. His pride was already shattered. One final kiss, a squeeze of fingers, and a pat on his eldest brother's shoulder, and Yuuri disappeared through the open balcony door. Wolfram finished buttoning his jacket, seething, then stopped—stunned. Gwendal leaned against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest, and he…smiled. It wasn't the slight twitch of his lips that Wolfram wouldn't have been able to see from his vantage point, but a broad, satisfied, content smile. His taciturn, grim, consistently dour brother was beaming, the happiness pouring from his body language like water from a pitcher. Wolfram froze in his place. He'd never seen Gwendal wear such an expression.

Torn, Wolfram gripped the hilt of his sword, unsure of what to do next. Gwendal shook himself slightly, the smile leaving his face, and walked back inside. Wolfram imagined whatever brief moment of respite his brother had allowed himself was now over and Gwendal would return to his normal, dark self and probably closet himself in his office to finish as much work as possible before he left with Yuuri. Wolfram sighed, his mood flitting between anger and confusion. In frustration, he unsheathed his sword and slashed at the painting he'd been working on, and the easel that had held it—reducing both to nothing more than twigs and scraps of canvass. What the hell was he supposed to do? He loved his brother and wanted him to be happy—and in any other circumstances, he would have been thrilled to see Gwendal so happy. But did it have to be with _HIS_ fiancé? Did he have to take Yuuri?

Wolfram felt dizzy. He leaned against the wall, then slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands and sobbed.

He wasn't sure when he stopped crying, but the tears finally slowed, then stopped. He felt raw, exposed—aching and grieving for the loss of something he counted as essential, but, in his heart he had to admit might never have been real at all. He remained where he was, pressed against the wall, replaying his entire relationship with Yuuri over in his mind. He knew he was torturing himself, but he just felt so tired. Whenever he was angry, or upset, his temper flared to life immediately, with the same speed that he could command fire from his fingertips, but after the storm passed, and he was himself again, he just felt drained…defeated. Like he felt now.

"Wolfram?"

"What do you want?" he snapped, refusing to look up. The last person he wanted to see right now was Yuuri.

"I came to find you," the Maou said, his voice tentative and encouraging. "Greta was worried that she'd upset you this morning, so I came to see what's going on."

Wolfram barked out a harsh laugh. Greta had been upset? Of course. There was no way Yuuri would seek him out because he wanted to see him, or spend time with him, or…be with him. "Everything's fine," he said, finally. "Greta didn't upset me. Now, why don't you go find my brother—I'm surprised you could remove yourself from his mouth long enough to look for me in the first place."

"That's not fair, Wolfram." Yuuri's voice was soft.

"Don't you dare," he spat. "Don't you dare stand there and sound sad. What do you have to be upset about anyway? You have what you want."

"That's not completely true," Yuuri said, stepping into the studio and closing the door. "If I had everything I wanted, then you and I would not be here like this now."

"Sometimes, I really hate you," Wolfram whispered, turning his face to the wall. "You are such a weak man, so caught up in making everything all right, and everyone believes that kind, selfless, Yuuri-act you put on, but they don't know you like I do. You're a selfish bastard, Shibuya Yuuri. And you have no…_honor_."

"_I_ have no honor?" Yuuri repeated as he crossed the floor and slid down the wall until he was seated next to Wolfram. "The first week I met you, you practically tried to kill me, then you continued on with this entire farce of an engagement even when you knew I didn't want it. You've inserted yourself into every aspect of my life, destroying my relationships with friends, acting on your own jealousy, and basically treating me like your personal punching bag. You sure you want to make this a question of honor…or can we talk about what's really bothering both of us?"

"The only thing that's bothering me is that you're a cheating wimp and you're going to drag my brother down with you."

"After all these years, are we still going to dance this dance, Wolfram?" the Maou asked, his eyes shining with anger. "I have never so much as even kissed you, and we've never made love. I have never cheated on you, as you're so fond of accusing me. Say what you like to me, but leave Gwendal out of it."

"So quick to protect your _lover_." Wolfram knew he was sneering, but he didn't care.

"He's not my lover, Wolfram, and you know it." Yuuri sighed. "But I won't deny that I care for him. And whether or not you ever believe it, I care _about_ you, too."

"Care all you want. You are, after all, the _Maou-heika_. But, understand this, Yuuri…I won't give you up. I'm not going to make it easy for you and just disappear into the sunset. You can't just ignore me. You owe me a hell of a lot better than this."

"Wolfram…all this bitterness. It's going to eat you up inside."

"Don't pretend like you're concerned," Wolfram shouted, finally having heard enough. "All you want is for me to bend over, kiss your ass, and tell you to go ahead and have a happy life with my brother—well that's not going to happen. I am _STILL_ your fiancé, and I have some say in what happens around here."

"Why can't you just admit that this is stupid?" Yuuri growled, his voice rising. "You may have convinced yourself that you love me, but you're just feeling sorry for yourself. Really, Wolfram, do you really, really want a marriage like this? Have you set your heart on marrying me?"

"As long as I draw breath, Yuuri, you won't marry anyone else."

"That sounds a lot like a threat," the Maou said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

"It's simply a promise," Wolfram said, with bravado he didn't feel.

"So, you would make us all miserable just to serve your own needs?" Yuuri asked, slowly. "What about Gwendal? Do you care about him, and what he wants at all? He's your brother, Wolfram. Maybe you want to make my life a twisted mess, but must you drag him into this too?"

"He didn't have to say yes." Wolfram knew he was pouting, but he couldn't help it.

"This isn't a game!" Yuuri shouted. "This farce has gone on too long. When I first came to Shin Makoku, you hated me, but I thought as time passed that we came to understand each other. There were times that we were real friends, true companions, but we both know it was never romantic love. We aren't _MEANT_ to be together, Wolfram."

"Just tell the truth, Yuuri." Wolfram's bitter laugh echoed through the room. "What you really mean is that _you_ don't want to be with _me_. Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? Because you're stuck with me. You know our traditions now, and too much time has passed for you to reject me. The only way out of this engagement for you is for me to release you and I promise you that isn't going to happen. So, think about that the next time you're in my brother's arms, kissing him, touching him…think about it when you raise your hand to slap him, and then remember—_you're spoken for and that won't change_. The only way you'll be rid of me is if you kill me. Go ahead, Yuuri, toss the knife if you have the guts. I can't force you to marry me, but I can make sure you don't marry anyone else."

"You really do hate me, don't you," Yuuri whispered, shaking his head.

Wolfram bit his lip, the apology he wanted to make dying on his lips. He didn't know why, but it seemed like the past year had brought everything to head between him and Yuuri. Long before Gwendal kissed the Maou at breakfast, if Wolfram was honest, there had been problems between himself and his fiancé. Of course, there had always been problems, but, Wolfram had really thought that all Yuuri needed was a chance to grow up, to see that Wolfram was a fine choice for a husband. He had convinced himself that it was just Yuuri's inferior upbringing that was holding them back as a couple, but, he couldn't deny the truth he had come to understand. It was simple. Yuuri was not in love with him, and he was never going to be. Still, Wolfram had invested a lot of years in his courtship and engagement to the Maou and he wasn't about to lose his place now. Yuuri owed him…yes, he did, he _OWED_ him for all the years that Wolfram had wasted protecting him, trying to show him how a true gentleman of the Mazoku behaved, and generally keeping him out of trouble.

"Am I really so disgusting that you'd do anything to get out of marrying me?" Wolfram asked.

"It's not like that," Yuuri protested, his voice quiet again. He reached out and took Wolfram's hand. "And I'm sorry I lost my temper. I do care about you, Wolfram. And I care about Greta—and she knows us both as her fathers. I'm just not in love with you. I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

"Are you in love with Gwendal?" Wolfram had to ask, even though he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I certainly didn't expect it, but, yes, I am."

Wolfram looked into Yuuri's eyes, scrutinizing his face, looking for any hint of inconsistency or prevarication. What he saw, though, made him feel even worse than he had before. The king looked bemused, and somewhat surprised, as if the admission that tore Wolfram's heart asunder was a shock to himself. Then he grinned, that small, sheepish grin that meant he'd just made a discovery. It was, however, the soft light in his black eyes, and the firm line of his lips that truly underscored what he'd said. There was no denying it—Yuuri wasn't lying. He was in love with Wolfram's eldest brother, and was apparently nurturing a tender hope that his feelings might one day be returned.

"He's not in love with you," Wolfram muttered, unable to say anything else.

"I…I know that," Yuuri said, blushing and looking at his hands. "But, it doesn't change how I feel."

"Then why can't you understand how _I _feel?" Wolfram asked, shaking his head.

"I guess the difference is that I've never tried to keep Gwendal. I offered to release him immediately, but he chose to stay in the relationship."

"He chose…?" Wolfram repeated. "But…you two barely know each other. How can all this have happened so suddenly? It was one night for Shinou's sake!"

"Barely know each other?" Yuuri shook his head. "Wolfram, it's been five years."

"Just tell me the truth, Yuuri. When did you know you wanted my brother?"

The silence stretched between them, but Wolfram could tell that Yuuri was truly thinking, not just avoiding his question.

"I've always admired him," Yuuri said slowly. "Even when he criticizes me, or my actions, or when he corrects or chastises me, or if we don't agree—he always does so with respect. I admire him not only for that, but for everything he does. I guess…I guess I've always had a crush on him, but, it's only been the past several months that I've really noticed that I have developed feelings for him. I used to be afraid of him, and I guess maybe sometimes I still am, but…now, it's just different. I really am sorry."

"Is that why…why you never let me touch you?" Wolfram asked, his guts churning as he tried to hold onto his temper. He just had to know.

"No," Yuuri whispered, looking Wolfram in the eyes. "It has nothing to do with Gwendal. You're really beautiful, Wolfram—you're like a jewel. You already know that—just look at all your admirers. I am sorry, but I can't help it. I've just never seen you in that way…like a boyfriend or a lover. I always have seen you as a friend—at least I used to, before we started fighting all the time. You mean a lot to me. I didn't want to lose you, or your friendship, and I was too unsure of myself to end things between us—I didn't want to make you mad."

"So you never….?"

Yuuri shook his head. "No, not like that."

"What if…what if there was no Gwendal…?"

Yuuri shook his head again. "I don't think it would matter, Wolfram. I don't want to hurt you anymore, and I don't want to be hurt. Where I come from, the tradition of having an official lover to go along with your fiancé or spouse isn't….done. This is very strange for me. I feel I'm doing you both a disservice."

"Then…then just dismiss him, Yuuri, and let's pretend like this never happened." Wolfram said, desperate to salvage something from the situation. The conversation had begun in sadness, moved to anger, and now seemed to be moving toward a resolution that the mazoku simply couldn't accept.

"I won't," Yuuri said, a small smile on his lips. "Someone out there, like you, wants Gwendal and I separated and is prepared to kill us both to achieve that. But, I'm not going to give up. I'm not going to quit. I'm tired of letting other people dictate what I do with my life—and this is a choice I'm making for myself, on my own. I love him, Wolfram, and I know it hurts you to hear it, but it's true. I love him, and even if he never returns my affection, I live in hope, because I believe in him and I believe in how I feel. I won't be frightened away by someone trying to assassinate me, and as much as I don't want to hurt you—I can't give you what you want. I won't betray his heart or mine."

"But you're betraying me!" Wolfram exclaimed.

"I don't think that's true," The Maou said. "You are a knight of Shin Makoku, right?"

"Of course," Wolfram replied, sniffing in indignation.

"Then you must see that your own traditions allow for this—as strange as it seems to me. I know the situation is…awkward, but I'm not betraying you. I've never promised you anything, apart from my true friendship, which you will always have. I've allowed you to raise Greta along with me, and I have promised you that would continue. How have I betrayed you, then?"

"You couldn't choose anyone else?" Wolfram said after a long moment of silence. "Did it have to be Gwendal?"

"I don't love anyone else," Yuuri whispered.

"You're going to get hurt." Wolfram dropped Yuuri's hand. "And when it happens, I'm not going to forget this. I won't forgive you for this, Yuuri."

"That might happen," the Maou said as he stood up. He walked to the door, his hand resting on the handle as he turned and looked over his shoulder. "But I couldn't count myself as any kind of man or Maou if I didn't have the courage to follow my heart. One day, Wolfram, I hope you feel the same and that you get the love you're looking for. I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be."

Wolfram didn't answer. He turned away, refusing to watch his fiancé walk out the door.

--O.o.O—

It was late afternoon before Conrad finished his interrogations of the castle's soldiers and the other suspects he and Gunter had listed as they considered the problem currently at hand. Unfortunately, the two soldiers that had been found dead were relatively new to the company, and there was little information to be had. Both men were single, without families, which made them, perhaps, easy marks for the promise of a large pay-off had the assassination attempt proved successful. The most Conrad could do was request that Gwendal immediately change the entire castle guard, sending the men currently at post to other locations and bringing in a new battalion immediately. His eldest brother had instantly acquiesced, and had clearly thought of the same move himself, since the resident soldiers were moved out and a new company brought in before dinner was served.

Gunter and Conrad were both seated in Gwendal's office, the three demons in the midst of an intense discussion concerning safety precautions for the upcoming trip, when Conrad inquired after Yuuri's whereabouts.

"His Majesty is packing his office." Gwendal replied.

"Heika is returning?" Gunter asked, smiling. "That's good news. I'm glad to see you've patched things up."

"It was merely inconvenient for everyone and required a young page give up the rest of his duties to simply trot paperwork back and forth between our desks. I assure you, Gunter, this move serves the best interests of everyone involved."

"Of course it does," Gunter said, laughing lightly. "You're completely impossible without the Maou nearby to soothe your savage temper, Gwendal. I'm sure we'll all be much happier!"

Conrad hid his smile behind his hand. It felt good to relax, if only for a moment. Despite the turmoil of the previous evening, the repairs to Yuuri's room were going well. The workmen had finished clearing the debris, and the cause of the explosion had been discovered: Incendiary devices imbued with houseki had been discovered—a single device had not detonated. At least it provided a clue as to the perpetrators, as no demon needed, or could use, houseki.

"Have you given any thought as to who will be accompanying you as Yuuri's royal guard?" Conrad asked.

Gwendal nodded. "Yes. The only person I trust at the moment is my own guard captain—he will remain with us. Otherwise, I've made a list of appropriate personnel. It's in my desk."

As Gwendal moved his chair back so he could open the desk drawer, he knocked one of Yuuri's pens off the top of his desk. He leaned to his right, bending down to retrieve the writing tool as he pulled his desk drawer. The sound of a spring recoiling was the only warning any of them had—a sharp, barbed dart flew from the center drawer of Gwendal's desk, slicing through the fabric of his great coat to nick his upper arm, as it flew past and imbedded itself in the General's chair.

Conrad was on his feet in a flash. Gunter was faster, though, and the adjutant was already chanting, a soft violet glow suffusing the room. Conrad barely had time to get to Gwendal's side, dragging him to his feet, away from his chair when the door opened. Yuuri stood, framed in the door, his expression confused, then horrified as the torn, green fabric of Gwendal's coat began to turn dark.

"Gwendal…?" the Maou asked. The king dropped the box he was holding and raced across the room to the bleeding demon's side. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"A scratch, Heika," Gwendal answered, his voice tight. "No harm done."

"Scratches don't bleed like that!" Yuuri gasped, his hands already covering the small wound as the blue light of healing majutsu blended with the violet aura of Gunter's warding spell. "What the hell is going on?"

"Someone tampered with Gwendal's desk," Conrad said leaning down to examine Gwendal's chair. "And this dart is poisoned. Look at the smoke coming from the leather."

"My chair!" Gwendal bit out. "That's _IT_! This has to end."

"You're wounded, Gwendal," Yuuri whispered, as the slice on Gwendal's arm closed under his ministrations. "Someone tried to kill you and all you're worried about is your damned chair?"

"I like that chair," Gwendal muttered.

Gunter unclasped his hands and moved to inspect the chair as well. "It is lucky that we were here. There should be no lasting damage to your arm, Gwendal, I have counteracted the poison."

Conrad wrapped his hand in his handkerchief and carefully removed the dark from his brother's chair. He held it up to the candlelight. "Do you recognize the make of this dart, Gunter? I've never seen anything like it."

"No. But I will research it."

"We need to find whoever set this trap. I put that paper in my desk before lunch, and I was only out of the office for about an hour after that. Whoever did this is still in the castle—they must be." Gwendal said, as he covered Yuuri's hands with one of his. Conrad expected Yuuri to step back, but the blue glow only intensified around him.

"A man's office is his private sanctum—a place of both work and respite. It is cowardly to set a trap for an innocent being and not to confront an enemy face to face. _Justice will be done, and I will pronounce punishment_!" Yuuri's voice was deep, ringing throughout the office and was surely heard throughout the castle, as his hair lengthened.

In all of his years with the king, Conrad had never seen the Maou come forth in such a fashion. Instantly, columns of water shot from the sky to the ground, from what he could make out through Gwendal's window, seemingly encasing the castle grounds behind shimmering, liquid bars. It seemed the Maou had no intention of letting the saboteur escape this time.

"Gunter von Kleist," the Maou commanded. "All beings leave behind a trace of their essence, wherever they go…" Several papers flew from Gwendal's desk drawer. "Find the person in the castle who carries the aura that surrounds these papers and bring that person here, to me."

"Yes…yes, Heika!" Gunter said, his voice hushed with awe.

Conrad could do nothing but stand by as he watched the King's adjutant carefully inspect the papers, not looking at the words, but using some sort of inner sight to catch the traces of aura on the parchment. In a flash, the adjutant disappeared from the office, leaving the door open in his hurry.

"Heika…" Gwendal's voice was even, calm. "What are you doing?"

The young man's eyes swept over the room, and Conrad almost shivered at their cold expression. He would never quite get used to the Maou, as impressive as that aspect of Yuuri's character was, because…it wasn't his Yuuri—the warm and loving boy that Conrad knew so well. Gwendal, however, didn't seem concerned at all. However, Conrad recognized the tight line of his brother's mouth—he was concerned that something was going to spin out of control at any moment.

"A person or persons as yet unknown have dared to assault my lover—the one under my protection and to whom I have promised shelter and safety. It is not acceptable that such criminals walk free upon the earth. For touching what is mine, I will destroy them utterly."

"I am uninjured," Gwendal said, squeezing the Maou's fingers. He glanced at Conrad and the soldier immediately moved to close the door.

"I am well, and you have healed me," Gwendal continued, holding the Maou's gaze. "I know you are powerful and can do all that you promise, but if the person responsible for this is still in the castle, and you execute him, then we may never know the whole truth behind what is happening."

"This cannot be forgiven," the Maou said, darkly. "Daring to harm my own was a choice that cannot be unmade. He will meet death as recompense for his labor."

"Curb your bloodlust!" Gwendal said sharply. Conrad held his breath. Everyone in the castle knew that crossing the Yuuri in this form was…_unwise_. Then, again, this wouldn't be the first time that the General had stood toe to toe with his King.

"Killing is not what you stand for…Yuuri." Gwendal's voice softened only a fraction. "You have called me your own, and so I am. I would ask you grant me this favor, then, because you can. Withhold your judgment, delay punishment…let us investigate this matter, as civilized demons."

The maou looked the General up and down, his gaze thoughtful and appraising. Conrad had known his brother was brave, but he didn't realize his will was this strong.

"Because you have asked it of me, I will accede to your wishes, though it is not my first choice." The Maou replied. "Understand, my prized one, that you are dear to me, and I will not suffer you to be injured. No other could make such an appeal to me."

"I swore my sword and life to your service, Heika." Gwendal answered. His bearing and voice were formal. "I will not forget your mercy in this matter."

"Then be at peace, Lord von Voltaire, for your request is granted. I will withdraw…for now."

True to his word, the Maou departed, leaving Yuuri to collapse, unconscious, in Gwendal's arms.

--O.o.O—

Yuuri woke in a strange bed. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he began to recognize his surroundings—the antique weapons displayed on the wall, the books, the lumpy, stuffed animals. He was in Gwendal's room.

"How do you feel, Heika?"

"Yuuri, Nazukeoya!" Yuuri grumbled, rubbing his forehead. He sat up. "I feel awful. What happened? The last thing I remember is coming into Gwendal's office, and something…I can't remember."

"Gwendal narrowly missed being hit with a poisoned dart—and it even scratched his arm."

"Yes…" Yuuri said slowly, his head beginning to clear. "And you were there, and Gunter. Gwendal was upset about his chair. What happened after that?"

"The Maou came out." Conrad was staring at him, his expression filled with concern. "You ordered Gunter to trace the culprit and it appeared at first as though you were going to pronounce a lethal judgment, but…Gwendal convinced you to wait until we knew more."

"I…did what?" Yuuri exclaimed. He had no memory of this at all. He flushed and looked at his hands. "What else did I say? What did I do?"

"Well, you withheld your anger only because Gwendal asked you to do so. And…you made your feelings for my brother very clear."

Yuuri sank down in the bed and pulled the covers over his head. He had confessed his love for Gwendal…and wasn't even aware of it?

"It wasn't so bad, Yuuri." Conrad's voice was gentle. "You said nothing wrong and you shouldn't be ashamed. You just told Gwendal that he was important to you, and that you wouldn't stand by while he was hurt."

"Actually, you claimed him as your own."

Yuuri peeked out of the covers to see Gunter standing with his back against the door and a loving smile on his lips.

"I did what?"

"Ask Gwendal to repeat what you said, Heika. It concerns the both of you more than either Conrad or myself. How are you feeling now?"

"I…I'm ok," Yuuri whispered. "I just feel really tired."

"So you should," Gwendal said, opening the door and nudging Gunter out of his way. "You've been out for a while now. You missed dinner. I brought you something to eat."

"Thanks," Yuuri replied, unable to quite meet Gwendal's eyes. The General put the tray down on the table beside the bed, then disappeared behind a tall screen.

"What…did you find out, Gunter?" Yuuri asked, unsure of what he should say or do.

Gunter explained that as a result of the Maou's command, he had followed the slight traces of aura through the castle to the maids' parlor. He found Sangria there, unconscious, and only just clinging to life. He described how both he and Gisela had worked over the maid, struggling to counteract the same poison that had been intended for Gwendal. Yuuri was relieved to hear that Sangria would make a full recovery, but…

"How did she get poisoned in the first place?" he asked.

"It looks like she was under outside influence, Heika," Gunter continued. "After she completed her task of rigging Gwendal's desk, she, like the other soldiers, was probably seen as a liability, and the poison was introduced. Gisela removed a dart similar to the one meant for Gwendal from her shoulder. The problem, though, is that the poison is very similar to the Wincott poison. From what I can tell so far, and from Anissina's initial analysis, it seems that a light dose of the poison will cause the victim to be very open to suggestion, and larger doses are lethal."

Yuuri had a sudden image of Gwendal housed inside of a doll, as Gunter had been when he'd been exposed to the poison. He found it funny and horrifying at once.

"If the poison is similar to the von Wincott's, does that mean it was made by…a mazoku?" Yuuri asked.

Conrad frowned. "Yes, Yuuri. The fact that we found evidence of houseki in the previous attack, and now evidence of majutsu, well…"

"That means it is likely that our culprits are a combined force of human and demon." Gwendal finished.

Yuuri glanced at the screen in time to see Gwendal's green coat land on the top to drape over the structure.

"I don't think that's what you had in mind when you suggested that humans and demons learn to live with one another in peace, Heika," Gwendal said. Yuuri had only heard his General make a darkly humorous quip twice before—both times he had been very angry. As the young Maou watched, he saw Gwendal's shirt, then his trousers join the green coat on top of the screen.

"I don't know what to say," Yuuri whispered. "I just don't understand what is driving this. I mean, I think I understand the motive, but Gwendal could have been killed."

"So might you have been," Gwendal said, coming around the screen, now clad in a pair of dark purple pajamas. "And, had anyone else opened my desk—that dart could have struck an innocent."

"I'm glad we're leaving in the morning," Yuuri said. "I don't want anyone else to be in danger."

"I am leaving with my men now." Conrad stood and paused at the bedside long enough to run his hand over Yuuri's hair. "There are extra guards posted around the castle tonight, and several more stationed here. This room has been thoroughly inspected. You can sleep without worry for tonight, Yuuri."

"Are…are you leaving?"

The soldier nodded. "I need to be in position before you and Gwendal leave in the morning."

"I, too, must go," Gunter said softly, rising to stand by Conrad's side. "There is much to be done. Sleep tonight, Heika. Tomorrow will be a long day, but Gwendal will be with you. And we will be near."

"Am I…am I staying here?" Yuuri asked, turning to Gwendal.

The tall, scowling demon was standing near the bed with his arms folded over his chest. He was looking out the window, from what Yuuri could tell. "It would be safest for you if you did, but, we can find other accommodations, Heika, if you prefer."

Yuuri shook his head quickly. "No, that's not it. I just…don't want to disturb you. You need to rest, too."

Gwendal crossed the room, opened the door, and waited while Conrad and Gunter said their goodnights to Yuuri. He closed it after them, then turned to face Yuuri. Suddenly, the young King of Shin Makoku felt very unsure of himself.

"Are you sure you don't mind my being here?"

"You are welcome in my rooms at any time, Heika. It is your right as Maou."

Yuuri bit his lip. _Heika_. The way Gwendal said the word, he knew there was something on his General's mind, but he had no idea how to broach the subject. He wished he understood the man leaning against the door. It was like their shared morning, which had made Yuuri so happy, had never happened. How could a day that had started with such promise turn into this. First, the dismal conversation with Wolfram, then the attack (and his lack of memory about that was very upsetting), and now Gwendal wouldn't even look at him—and a scowl seemed permanently etched on his face.

"You're angry with me, aren't you?" Yuuri blurted out.

Gwendal blinked twice, then his brows drew together. "Why would you think that?"

Yuuri shrugged and stared at the blankets on the bed.

"Heika?" Gwendal asked, taking two steps closer to the bed.

"I…I'm sorry, Gwendal. I don't know what I've done to make you mad—probably something when the Maou took over, because I don't remember. But…whatever it is, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Gwendal's frown remained in place. "You've done nothing wrong. I will admit that you were a bit…overzealous in your desire for justice this evening, and I suspect you're so tired because you used a great deal of your maryoku holding yourself back. I'm not angry with you, Heika. I am…frustrated that I have not resolved what is happening yet."

"Then…why won't you use my name? And why…are you so far away?"

Gwendal stared at him as though he didn't know how to answer. Finally, he took measured steps across the room and sat down on the end of the bed.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." The General said. Then he stretched out his hand, and Yuuri hurried to grasp it.

"You could have been really hurt today, or even killed." Yuuri gripped Gwendal's hand tightly. "I was so scared."

"But, I am here. I am unharmed."

Yuuri didn't have the words to express his feelings, so he practically hurled himself against Gwendal's chest and held on.

"Heika," Gwendal gasped, his voice soft. "What is this?"

Yuuri felt Gwendal's strong hand brushing against his head, stroking his hair. The taller demon shifted his arms, bringing Yuuri into his lap.

"In all the years you have known me, I have faced many dangers, as have you—but you have never before acted this way. Why are you so frightened?"

Yuuri shook his head against Gwendal's chest. There was no way he could explain to the somber man holding him that all those times he had faced danger in the past had been before Yuuri realized what losing Gwendal would mean. The loss of the mazoku holding him would mean more than a simple broken heart, it would mean…the loss of his source of happiness and strength. Those were words he couldn't begin to say, and to his great embarrassment, he felt hot tears begin to spill over his eyelashes onto his cheeks.

"I just…don't want you to be hurt," Yuuri said finally.

Gwendal eased him away from his chest, cradling Yuuri's cheeks in the broad palms of his large hands. Yuuri looked up into his general's dark blue eyes, trying to read their expression, but Gwendal's eyes showed only confusion and concern.

"Even if this current threat did not exist, there is a good chance I would be hurt at some point, Yuuri. I have been hurt before, and I don't doubt it will happen again—it is the nature of my position. But you already know this, even as I know that no matter what I do…no matter how careful and cautious I am, or Conrad or Gunter—all of us…no matter how many contingencies we plan for, it is possible for you to be harmed, kidnapped or worse. I, too, have to live with that and I accept it because you are the Maou, my King. However, I cannot operate effectively if I allow myself to be consumed by fear—and neither can you. For tonight, I am here, and so are you, and we are uninjured. Calm yourself now, Yuuri. Don't anticipate grief, it will come soon enough. It always does."

"Then…what do we do?" Yuuri asked, still mesmerized by Gwendal's eyes.

"We rest," his General replied simply. "And tomorrow, we will begin another day and hopefully we will expose those behind this scheme."

Gwendal leaned down and brushed his lips against Yuuri's forehead. Then he stood, and walked around the bed. He slipped into the covers on the far side and sat with his back against the headboard. Yuuri scooted back as well, until he was sitting beside the tall demon.

"What are these?" Gwendal asked, pointing to the small box of books on his bedside table.

"Oh," Yuuri said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "I'd forgotten that I put those there earlier. They're books, from Earth. They're children's books, by a lady named Beatrix Potter, and she lived a long time ago, but they're stories where animals are the central characters. She was English and wrote in another language, but they've been translated into Japanese with the original artwork—I…I thought you might like them."

Gwendal nodded, his expression once again unreadable. He picked up one of the slim volumes and opened it. Yuuri smiled to see the wrinkles on the handsome demon's forehead which meant he was concentrating. He read Japanese well, that Yuuri knew from experience, but it still took him some effort.

"Gwendal…?" Yuuri asked, as the General turned another page—he was about halfway through the Tale of Peter Rabbit.

"Mmmm?"

"What…what did I say, when I was…in your office. I don't remember."

"I do not like this man, _McGregor_. He is a tyrant. I appreciate that he is a farmer, but the little rabbits couldn't eat the entirety of his harvest…and it was cruel to steal his little blue coat with the brass buttons." Gwendal mused.

"I…I think he sort of gets his in the end," Yuuri said, stretching out on his side of the bed and rolling on his side to face the opposite wall.

"I certainly hope so," Gwendal muttered. "And when you were…not yourself…you demanded Gunter find whoever had sabotaged my desk."

"Was that all?" Yuuri whispered.

Silence stretched between them. Yuuri had given up hope of Gwendal replying, until he heard the small book snap closed. He felt Gwendal moving in the bed, the shift and pull of covers and the settling of the General's weight in the mattress next to him. He closed his eyes and held his breath, hoping. He sighed in relief when he felt Gwendal's arm settle over his waist and he felt himself drawn back against the warm demon's chest.

"No," Gwendal breathed in his ear. "That wasn't all. Are you sure you want me to tell you?"

Yuuri nodded.

"You called me your own, said that I am under your protection, and you promised death to those who would harm me."

"I…I did?"

"Yes. Do you regret those words, Yuuri?"

"No," Yuuri answered, blushing and squeezing his eyes closed. "I…I don't really want to kill anyone, though. But, I…want you, Gwendal."

"Then…should I tell you a secret?"

Yuuri wasn't sure, but he thought he heard something in Gwendal's normally serious voice. A note, just the barest hint of playfulness.

"Yes," Yuuri answered, curious.

"Being wanted feels…good."

Yuuri smiled, a weight lifting from his chest, and he snuggled back against Gwendal's wide chest. It had been, on the balance, a horrible day. However, here, safe in the arms of the man he loved—even if he couldn't tell Gwendal how he felt—he had to admit that regardless of what had come before, he wouldn't mind ending every day just like this.

"What do we do now?" Yuuri asked.

"Now, we sleep," Gwendal breathed in his ear. "It's been a long day."

Yuuri closed his eyes and listened to the steady, lulling beat of Gwendal's heart. He didn't think he was sleepy at all, but he was warm and comfortable. In moments, he stopped thinking all together as sleep claimed him.

_And…that's it for chapter 7. Tomorrow, the journey and the next attempt on our fellas. Also, Wolfram is not finished, as you see, and while he is NOT the saboteur, he definitely plays a part in what could be a very unhappy ending for Yuuri and Gwendal…but that part's not written yet. Thanks for your patience, everyone, and I will now try to slave my old drive to the new computer and see if I can't recover my mail! I'll be seeing you…and, BTW, every other day updates now until we are finished….SN_


	8. Chapter 8

_Ok, we're back online and cooking. Here's chapter 8…lots of snuggling and a confused but pretty brave Gwendal. I have to run out of the house now, but I'll be back for mail this afternoon, after work, now that I can see it all again! Yay! Bear with me, I promise I'm not the slug I appear to be! So, without further ado…the chapter of confessions, Chapter 8, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page. P.S. The little separator bar is not working for me now...don't know why, but sorry about the formatting!_

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_**Chapter 8: Love me, love me…say that you love me**

In the whirlwind of the morning, Yuuri had forgotten to be nervous. From the moment he woke in the early hours, before daylight, he had been surrounded by Gwendal's strong presence. In fact, waking had presented its own challenge, since it seemed his dour, reserved General was a close-sleeper—a snuggler without compare. Yuuri discovered this when he opened his eyes and found himself not only wrapped in Gwendal's arms, but his legs were trapped by one of Gwendal's heavy thighs such that Yuuri was half-buried beneath his sleeping lover. He squirmed a bit, which had brought Gwendal to instant alertness, and the look of sleepy satisfaction on the normally grim demon's face made Yuuri's heart pound painfully in his chest. The kisses they shared were just as slow, just as languorous as the caresses Gwendal smoothed over Yuuri's chest and stomach. Yes, the Maou would have been very happy to spend many days in that particular spot with that particular demon reveling in the best wake-up method ever to be invented.

However, a sharp knock on Gwendal's door finally roused them both, and Yuuri met the day with breathless anticipation and a heavy, aching erection. Gwendal had been careful, he thought, not to brush against that part of his anatomy, but if things continued in this vein, Yuuri was pretty sure he was going to die an early death—_of thwarted sexual desire_—before any assassin had the chance to attack. Wolfram's words had come back, with chilling intensity, reminding Yuuri that Gwendal didn't share his feelings. Well, maybe that wasn't completely true. He remembered Gwendal's voice, warm and pleased, when he whispered that it felt good to be wanted. Yuuri had smiled, ruefully, to himself. Oh, yes, the General was wanted—more than he could possibly imagine.

The early morning had flown by, therefore, and after dressing, a quick meal, and hurried goodbyes, Yuuri found himself, at present, riding in a creaking, fully outfitted carriage, speeding toward his first journey with Gwendal. He was nervous, certainly, and kept staring out the window for any signs of trouble, but he was also anxious and excited for another reason. He was alone, with Gwendal, and felt as though he could breathe for the first time in several days. He reminded himself that Conrad was close by, even if he was out of sight, and he often caught glimpses of Gunter as his adjutant rode up and down the column of soldiers that were guarding the carriage. Knowing they were there relieved his mind greatly, freeing him up to think more pleasurable thoughts…like how handsome the man accompanying him happened to be, and how well he looked in the morning light that streaked through the open windows of the carriage.

"Heika," Gwendal said softly, not lifting his eyes from the pages of The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin. "You are staring at me again."

"Sorry," Yuuri replied, blushing.

"Is there something wrong…something you wanted to say?" Gwendal's question seemed innocent enough, even gruff, but Yuuri was quick to notice that the General accompanied the question by a shift of his tall frame—stretching his legs out so that his calf brushed against Yuuri's leg since the young king was sitting opposite him.

"Nothing's wrong," Yuuri said, quickly.

"Mmmm." Gwendal stretched again, used one hand to unfasten his coat, and let his legs fall open in a casual pose that riveted Yuuri's attention to his General's broad chest and narrow hips. "Are you sure? Maybe you're a little…bored?"

"Well…" Yuuri began, his brain quickly supplying any number of scenarios through which Gwendal could alleviate his boredom.

"I can help you with that," Gwendal said, turning the page of his small book, his lips curling into the merest hint of a smile.

"I'd…like that," Yuuri said.

"See that little gold handle there, to your left? Pull it open…I think the rest should be self-explanatory."

Excited now at the potential surprise, Yuuri hurried to pull the handle. A small, cunningly crafted writing top slid out of the wood and flipped down to make a work surface. Yuuri lifted the lid and saw…a sheaf of papers, all with small notes written in Gwendal's bold hand. He stared, rubbed his eyes, and stared again.

"Really, Gwendal? Are you serious?" Yuuri squeaked. "You want me to work while we're on holiday?"

"Unfortunately, those cannot be delayed. Your duties as Maou come before any recreation or holiday."

"Great," Yuuri muttered. "Some romantic holiday this is shaping up to be."

"I beg your pardon, Heika?" Gwendal asked, coolly polite.

"Nothing," Yuuri said, and turned his attention to the papers before him.

It was tedious work, taking several hours of his time. Time when he could have been watching the beautiful scenery, admiring the brilliant colors of Shin Makoku in the late summer. Soon, the leaves would change again, and the autumn flowers would come in. He wondered, absently, what this fall would bring. Last year, he had enjoyed the festivals but he and Wolfram had fought almost without ceasing. Thinking on his own behavior, Yuuri regretted the harsh words he'd spoken to his fiancé, but…he wanted so much to be free of that particular commitment. Glancing at Gwendal, he wondered if somewhere deep in his heart, he'd wanted the tall, sexy demon—even then.

"Did you have a question, Heika?" Gwendal asked, now ensconced in The Tale of Benjamin Bunny.

"No," Yuuri sighed, returning to his work. He signed off on the second to last sheet of parchment, then added it to the pile of completed work inside the desk. He took a deep breath and began to read the final page. He frowned, his initially cheerful mood having soured…until he realized what was written on the page.

'_You've done well,'_ he read. _'And I apologize for misleading you. If you are in a forgiving frame of mind, let me make it up to you.'_

The words were unmistakably Gwendal's, written in his distinctive script. Yuuri smiled, folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. It wasn't a love letter, but, it was the first personal note he'd ever received from the stoic demon, so if he counted it as a love-note, he didn't think he could be blamed. As he did so, Gwendal closed his book, still not looking at Yuuri, and turned so that he was sitting sideways on the bench seat, one leg propped against the back cushions. Yuuri put the writing desk back in its hidden position and slipped off his seat and into the curve of Gwendal's body. The General resettled Yuuri so that his back was against the taller demon's chest and Yuuri stifled a satisfied purr as he felt Gwendal's strong fingers begin to massage his cramped shoulders. It wasn't easy to write in a moving carriage.

"Then you're not angry with me for bringing along work?" Gwendal asked, nuzzling the side of Yuuri's neck.

"I suppose I should have guessed," Yuuri said, relaxing under the massage. "But…I don't think I've ever been able to stay angry with you."

"I could wish that would always be the case," Gwendal replied. "The truth is, of course, that you will, from time to time, be very angry with me, Yuuri. I am…not skilled with relationships. I won't intend to upset you…but I will."

"Then I'll forgive you," Yuuri said, sincerely. "I just hope you'll do the same."

"It would be impossible for me to remain upset with you. Believe me. I've tried."

"Hey!" Yuuri objected, and was rewarded with a soft rumble that he was stunned to recognize as Gwendal's laughter.

"You are too…sweet for anyone to deny, Yuuri. I've seen it countless times…the way you turn an enemy into an ally. You've changed the spirit of the country."

"I used to think things were changing," Yuuri said, snuggling a little closer to Gwendal's chest. "Now, I'm not so sure. I still find it unbelievable that someone out there wants us both gone. Maybe it is just too much change all at once?"

"No matter what you did, do, or will do, these scenarios will surface. It is the nature of the populace to be discontent and when they are they search for a cause. The King is the easiest target upon which to lay blame. If you are right, and this current trouble is based on the idea that you and I united will become something too powerful to contain, well, I believe you will find a way to show by your actions that it isn't true. As for the culprits, however, I will show by my actions that such treason will not be tolerated."

"It's so hard to imagine having to punish my subjects," Yuuri whispered. "I…really just want everyone to be safe and happy."

"You needn't, Heika. I will take on that responsibility for you."

"Gwendal," Yuuri sighed, overwhelmed by sadness. "How many times, though? How many times are you going to have to do the hard work, the thankless work?"

"As many times as it takes for you to achieve your goals, Yuuri. You are my king, and I will perform whatever tasks are necessary to further your dreams and plans. So long as you continue to act in the best interest of Shin Makoku—and I have come to realize that is what's important to you."

"Still…I wish I could do something more for you. You're restless, too, aren't you?"

"I will admit, traveling by carriage is not my first choice."

"I'm sorry you're cooped up inside," Yuuri said.

"The company is pleasant," Gwendal replied, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of Yuuri's neck, leaving goose bumps in their wake. "I've no objections."

Yuuri melted under Gwendal's large hands, quickly becoming breathless as Gwendal stroked and caressed him. The jostling of the carriage threw them together, rocking them in a rhythm that made Yuuri blush deeper than before. He didn't want to do anything to ruin the moment, to overstep the hazy boundaries between them, but he ached, literally ached, to touch Gwendal and to be touched. He _wanted_ to be lovers—not in the eyes of the court, but for real, and…he didn't know what to do to make that happen. In his heart, he feared the rejection he thought would come and struggled to remind himself that Gwendal was on here, with him, because of his social faux-pas. This hadn't happened because they both had pursued a relationship. Still, he realized he was helplessly in love with the most unlikely of demons, and the frustration of holding himself back was starting to make his stomach burn.

"What's the matter, Yuuri?" Gwendal mouthed against his ear. "You were relaxed before, but now you're as taut as a drawn bow strong. Do you want me to stop? Just tell me, and I will."

"No," Yuuri gasped. "No, I don't want you to stop. I just…please, don't make me say it, Gwendal. Please."

"I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to do," the tall man replied, resuming his teasing, taunting caresses along the inside of Yuuri's thighs. "If you don't like what I do, ever, just…tell me."

"It's not that," Yuuri said on a half moan. "I love the way you touch me. I just want…more."

What Yuuri feared most came to pass as Gwendal's hands froze, turning to stone against his legs. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. He knew it. But it had felt so good, and how was he not supposed to want to go further? He felt cold and shivered as Gwendal moved away from him, carefully easing himself from behind Yuuri and shifting them until they were seated side by side but not touching.

"Heika…" Gwendal said softly. "Maybe…we should have a talk about what your expectations are."

"Oh, God," Yuuri moaned, this time without any benefit of sexual desire. "You…you've…you've been touching me like this, being with me, because you think I expect you to?" He could have died from shame right there.

"No!" Gwendal said, his voice sharp and harsh. "No, I didn't mean that. You see? I told you I'm not good with words."

Yuuri dared to peek over at his General. The demon was sitting straight as an arrow, his back stiff, regardless of the motion of the carriage, with his arms folded over his chest and his lips turned down into the deep frown that Yuuri had come to recognize as his embarrassed expression. The merest hint of blush stood on Gwendal's cheeks.

"Heika…I have to confess something to you."

Yuuri's heart sank at Gwendal's solemn tone. This couldn't be good news. "You don't have to Gwendal…not if you don't want to."

The General shook his head. "No. I don't…I don't want there to be secrets between us, at least, I don't want to have such misunderstandings. This situation isn't easy, at least, it wasn't expected, and the more there lies between us, the more problems will surface. So, I must confess."

"All…all right," Yuuri whispered, bracing himself for the worst.

"When you were in the bath…with Conrad and Yozak…I was…on the other side of the screen." Gwendal bent his head so his bangs covered his eyes, but Yuuri could see the blush more clearly on his face. "It was not my intention to eavesdrop, but I couldn't find a way to leave without drawing attention to myself."

"I…I see," Yuuri said, ready to sink into the carriage seat and just disappear.

"So…I know you don't…want me in that way. You were very clear about not wanting to be…physically intimate with me. I understand that and accept your limitations, but now…I…" Gwendal broke off and sighed deeply. "Now I don't know what you want."

"And…you want to clarify?" Yuuri asked, really wishing the ground would just open and swallow him whole.

"Yes."

"Well, I can tell you that what I _DON'T_ want is you acting on what you think are my desires. I…I don't even know what to say about that, but the idea that you'd kiss me and touch me because you think it's expected is…_mortifying_." Yuuri said, staring at his hands. "I don't want your pity."

"When you first came to Shin Makoku, Heika, you were a boy." Gwendal turned his face to the window, so Yuuri couldn't see his expression, but his voice was rough, as though he were swallowing back his emotions. "Then, you were almost immediately engaged to my younger brother, and while I have always been stern in my expectations of Wolfram, he is dear to me. You and I have often been at odds, but, we eventually found a workable solution, I think, and we have been more colleagues recently rather than adversaries. Through it all, however, you have been my King and I have been loyal. Whatever…feelings…I have, Heika, I have done my best to keep contained, as you are spoken for and have never…shown any interest in me in that way. However, this change has been…troublesome for me. I find that my emotions are not as easily controlled as they have been in the past. I do not have that easy way that Conrad has—able to say the right thing at the right time, and neither do I have that ability to simply adore without any concern for what others think, like Gunter. I cannot be other than I am. I can assure you, however, that I've never touched you out of pity, or duty. You've grown up, Heika, into a charming man and I…desire you."

"You do?" Yuuri asked, dumbfounded. "But…how? I mean, I'm not complaining, Gwendal, but…I'm hardly anything special. I'm not sexy like you, or experienced, or sophisticated. I'm just doing the best that I can."

"I think if you were any of those things…sophisticated, false, full of experience, then maybe I wouldn't…want you as I do. I…like you just as you are." Gwendal's voice was quiet and sincere. "I deal with the court more often than you do, and I can tell when I'm being flattered, or someone is pandering to me. Even when we have argued, you've always been honest, forthright. That is why this is so confusing…I…don't know exactly where I stand with you…what you want from me."

"I don't really want anything from you," Yuuri said, scratching the back of his neck, still embarrassed, but hope beginning to return to his heart. "I don't know how else to say it…I just want to be with you. You know? It's you that I want Gwendal. Hard as you are to understand sometimes, I wouldn't change you, because then you wouldn't be you…does that make sense?"

"It does." The tall demon conceded. "Still, when you were talking to Conrad and Yozak…"

"I was embarrassed, and I never thought in a million years someone as perfect as you could ever want someone as foolish as me." Yuuri said, forcing himself to make his own confession.

Gwendal looked at him then, his indigo blue eyes darkening further still with an emotion that took Yuuri's breath away. Slowly, he uncrossed his arms and shifted so that he was almost facing Yuuri again. It seemed to take forever, and Yuuri held his breath the entire time, afraid that if he moved or said anything he'd ruin the moment…again. He sighed with relief when Gwendal's hands finally settled on his waist and he went willingly into his General's lap when his hands urged him forward.

"I am many things...Yuuri," Gwendal said, his voice turning Yuuri's name into a caress. "But I am far from perfect—as you see. And how you could miss the signals I've sent, my very real desire for you…? That I can't explain, so I will just say this…I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want you. Despite everything that is happening now, and as much as my mind tells me this could yet bring pain to us both, my heart…has settled on you. So, please, don't doubt me."

"Gwen," Yuuri whispered, using the diminutive of his General's name for the first time ever. "I want you so much, please believe me."

"I do," Gwendal replied, then sealed his lips to Yuuri's in a kiss that curled the Maou's toes.

Yuuri wasn't sure what he was doing at all, and could barely remember his own name as he responded to Gwendal's passionate kisses, matching him touch for touch. He'd been excited before, of course, and had intimate knowledge of his own body, but how Gwendal seemed to know exactly where to touch him to make him sigh, or shiver, or gasp was amazing. It was no wonder, he thought dimly, that Gwendal was such a gifted military strategist. In no time at all, Yuuri was a bundle of screaming nerves, his body begging for more and the jostling of the carriage serving only to force him back against the one he loved. Finally, unable to stand anymore of Gwendal's teasing, Yuuri dragged his mouth down to the small triangle of exposed flesh at Gwendal's open collar and latched his teeth gently on his skin, tugging lightly. Gwendal stilled beneath him for the space of a heart beat, and before Yuuri realized what was happening, he was on his back, pressed into the cushion of the seat, his legs wrapped around Gwendal's waist and the heavier demon's hips grinding into his.

"Yuuri," Gwendal growled in his ear. "You're sure…?"

Yuuri tried to answer, he really did, but his brain wouldn't connect to his mouth and all he could do was make a needy whimper in the back of his throat. That, apparently, was enough to communicate his desire because Gwendal's fingers moved to his jacket, whipping through the buttons and buckles with quick, sharp motions. Yuuri arched up, helping to shed his jacket, then he reached up and practically tore the tie restraining Gwendal's long, steely hair. When the warm mass tumbled over his now bare chest, Yuuri didn't try to hold in his happy sigh. It was like he could feel Gwendal's hands and lips everywhere at once. Tearing his trusted General's clothes off in a rolling carriage had not been Yuuri's idea of his first real sexual encounter, but now that it was happening, he thought it was the most erotic location in the world. His half-groan, half-angry shout was understandable, he thought, as the carriage came grinding to a halt.

"What the hell is it now?" He ground out.

Gwendal moved, bringing Yuuri up with him. There was a small, rueful smile on his General's lips as the tall mazoku tore a hand through his loose hair.

"Stay here, Heika," Gwendal commanded. "I'll return soon."

"Your coat, Gwendal," Yuuri whispered, feeling a frisson of fear travel his spine. Gwendal was back in his coat before the wood of the carriage stopped creaking. Sword in hand, he burst from the door, leaving Yuuri confused—concern dampening his rampant libido.

--O.o.O—

Gwendal burst of out of the carriage, ready to meet the danger currently facing them, and secretly welcoming the chance to take out his frustrations on whoever had been stupid enough to interrupt his time with the Maou. Firmly locking his swirling emotions away, he concentrated on surveying the scene…but there was a decided lack of scrambling by the soldiers, and there were no shouts or hints of an attack. There was only Gunter, seated atop his horse, staring at Gwendal with an amused smile on his lips.

"We are merely stopping to water and rest the horses," his beautiful friend said brightly. "Is something wrong, Gwendal? Did you not hear the driver's alert?"

"I…was distracted," the General replied, after a long moment.

"I see."

Gwendal was certain Gunter was laughing—not out loud of course, but he could see the mirth dancing in his colleague's amethyst eyes.

"We are not far from our destination. There is, perhaps, another two hours to go before we arrive at the Inn. We will spend the night there, as planned, then arrive at the Gyllenhaal estate for the house party in the morning."

"Fine," Gwendal said through gritted teeth.

"Are you hungry? Or Heika? I packed a lunch basket in the carriage, it's stowed beneath the rear seat."

"Thank you," Gwendal bit out, sheathing his sword. "If there's nothing else?"

"Nothing at all," Gunter said, still smiling much too brightly.

Gwendal turned and had almost made back inside of the carriage when Gunter's cheerful voice followed him.

"And Gwendal, the next time you emerge ready to do battle in the King's name…maybe you should button your shirt and coat first?"

"I will take it under advisement," Gwendal growled.

If he released a small amount of his maryoku, perhaps just enough to make the ground shake near the carriage, which caused Gunter's horse to shy away, nearly upsetting the adjutant's seat, well, it was purely accidental. More important to him now was returning to the Maou and reassuring the younger man that there was no danger.

"Is everything all right?" Yuuri asked when he closed the door to the carriage.

"Yes. We have merely stopped to water the horses and to rest them. Apparently, I did not hear the driver's warning."

As he watched the young king smile, the look of relief evident on his face, Gewndal marveled at how the slightest gesture on the Maou's part could change his own emotions. If Yuuri smiled, he was happy. If Yuuri frowned or became afraid, all Gwendal wanted to do was fix whatever the problem was so that the young man would smile again. A stab of fearful unease, wholly unexpected, almost took his breath. He wasn't used to such tender feelings and wasn't sure what action he could take to forestall them. He felt…_vulnerable_. He was too old, too experienced in the ways of the world to become so deeply attached to another person. He should have walked away from this when he had the chance. He should have thanked the King for saving his reputation and then gracefully bowed out. It was too confusing, this shifting of roles. It had been easier when he was _Gwendal the Grouchy, Gwendal the Irritated, Gwendal the…easily ignored_. Now he stood in the center of the bright spotlight of the Maou's attention, and while he was warmed through because of it, he also felt exposed. It was becoming harder to maintain his expressionless mask—for every time the young man smiled, Gwendal wanted to smile in return. Even now, his hands were itching, wanting to reach for the King and hold him again. He'd thought he could do this…be the King's lover without the messy entanglement of emotional attachment. After all, he'd spent long years carefully crafting his tangle-free life and it had worked brilliantly. There had been…physical encounters over the years, a mere mechanical coupling that had served to assuage any demands of his adult, healthy body, but it had been a long time since he'd allowed himself close to another person. His head felt a little muzzy—had it only been a few days, really? It was hard for Gwendal to remember, and maybe it had been coming on so gradually that he'd not been able to see the danger and avoid it. Like a thief in the night, skulking through the shadows, Yuuri had crept inside of him, past all his rigid defenses, and stolen his heart.

"Is everything all right?" Yuuri asked, his beautiful eyes clouding with gentle confusion.

"No," Gwendal answered honestly. He didn't know how to lie to the King and he really didn't want to.

"What's the matter, Gwen?" The Maou leaned forward on the seat, his face serious. "Are we in danger?"

"Yes. But not in the way you're thinking."

Gwendal closed his lips and turned his attention to the rear seat, finding and removing the basket that Gunter had previously packed.

"There's food in here," he said, handing the basket to Yuuri. "You should eat, if you're hungry. I need…to take a walk."

"Do…do you want me to come?"

He hated the slight note of fear in Yuuri's voice. He hated that the young man was still so unsure, so hesitant when it came to him—and it only made his mood darken. Gwendal von Voltaire was a patient man, but long days filled with near-misses and sexual frustration had pushed him to his limit. He had been so close…so close to something he couldn't exactly describe, but he knew had he been allowed a few more minutes in the passionate embrace he'd shared with Yuuri that they'd both be a lot happier at this moment.

"No. Stay here. Gunter will watch over you. I need…a moment."

"All right," the King said, the contents of the basket seeming to take on a huge importance, since he wouldn't look at Gwendal at all. "I'll just…be here."

Gwendal nodded, then left the carriage, careful this time to button his shirt and coat, and strode through the assembled soldiers without so much as a word of explanation. He ignored Gunter's curious questions and headed into the depth of the woods. He needed to be alone. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to be in command of himself again, to feel safe again, before he did something incredibly stupid like confessing his love for the Maou…

Gwendal stopped dead in his tracks, appalled, and leaned his forehead against the nearest tree. "Great Shinou, what have you done to me, Yuuri?" He muttered.

"He does have a rare ability, that's true."

Gwendal looked up to see Conrad standing by a nearby tree.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and I came out here to be alone. So, if you have something of value to report, perhaps the capture of those after the king, then speak. If not, I would appreciate some privacy."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Conrad replied, his easy stance and serene features indicating that he remained unconcerned with Gwendal's stern comments. "And, I wish I could tell you we've caught them, but I can't. As for your other, more pressing problem, I'm sorry to tell you, brother, you're sunk."

"How do you do this?" Gwendal growled, lashing out at the tree in front of him, reducing it to splinters in a burst of maryoku.

"Do what?" Conrad asked, sidestepping the falling debris and signaling to the advancing soldiers to retreat.

"How do you stand there, so easy and accepting, and just allow yourself to…" Gwendal broke off.

"Love him?" Conrad smiled. "Come walk with me, brother."

Gwendal didn't resist when Conrad nudged his shoulder, falling into step beside his younger brother and the one person in Shin Makoku who understood the Maou best.

"You suffer from a common complaint, Gwendal," Conrad said quietly, as they walked. "However, unlike everyone else that has tried to woo him, Yuuri returns your feelings."

"It is presumptuous of you to give a name to my feelings."

"Maybe so," Conrad said congenially. "Still, you're in love with him, Gwendal. I don't know for how long, of course, because you've always been the best out of all of us in hiding your emotions. You were probably successful as long as you could remain aloof, but that's impossible now. The problem, of course, stems from the fact that he doesn't just want you. He needs you."

"How do you know this?" Gwendal asked, shaking his head in wonder.

"I see a lot more than I ever let on, of course. And I know him better than you do, for all that you love him. You are very alike, the two of you, despite your differences. It surprises me that you can't see that."

"What are you talking about?" Gwendal scoffed. "I am nothing like the Maou."

"Of course not," Conrad agreed, smiling. "He is honorable, well-meaning, and completely committed to Shin Makoku. He is often hesitant to reveal how he feels because he fears rejection—yours most of all—and he sulks when he doesn't get his way. You're right, of course, you two are nothing alike."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, little brother."

Conrad laughed. "I suppose not. Still, I hate to see you twist yourself into knots over this. It's really very simple. You love him. Isn't that enough?"

Gwendal shook his head. "Even if I give credence to your words, he is still Wolfram's fiancé. That situation shows no signs of abating, and there are the other constraints as well."

"Really? Impediments you can't surmount? I'm very surprised to hear that you, the demon who stood up to the Maou, haven't the courage to face a few obstacles. You will break my Godson's heart."

Gwendal searched his brother's face for signs of his dry wit, that sarcasm he was so used to, but he saw nothing but honest sadness in Conrad's brown eyes.

"Probably," Gwendal whispered, sighing. "But I won't mean to. Truthfully, I'm not afraid of any obstacles between us, but…I am not…used to this."

"I don't know that anyone is ever _ready_ to fall in love, and I'm not sure you _can_ get used to it, _per se_. I do know this about Yuuri, though…whether or not he's said it, he's grown to love you deeply over the years. He may not even have the words for it. He tells me everything, and when it comes to discussing you, he's been turning red and stammering for far longer than these last days. Do you really mean to tell me that you didn't see it? That you missed the way he always ends up near you, no matter what happens? He is drawn to you, Gwendal. He can't control his feelings for you anymore than you can deny yours for him. He showed you mercy when you asked the Maou to withdraw—can't you give him a little of that back?"

"I don't want this." Gwendal ground out, his temper returning. "I don't want to feel like this—afraid of what will happen to him if he's out of my sight, reaching for him first thing in the morning, and being elated when I find him next to me. I don't want to long for him, or to feel so damned empty when he's not with me. When I kiss him, I feel alive again, and young. His scent calms me, his smile melts me, and I have been smiling back. I. Have. Been. Smiling."

"Brother—we're discussing my godson…these are mental images I can live without."

"You know what I mean," Gwendal muttered.

"Regardless of whether or not you want it, you have it. You hold the heart of the Maou in your hand and you're the only one who can decide what to do with it. You can nurture that affection and see what it matures into, or you can crush it and save the assassins the trouble of targeting him. If you leave him now, he will not be the same. He will go on, and he will still be Maou, and he will probably be just as successful, but he will not be the same. I would ask you, as both your brother and his Nazukeoya, not to succumb to your fear."

"I hate this," Gwendal sighed.

"Of course you do. You can't control it, and that's why. You're heart is finally making a stand, Gwendal, and there's nothing you can do about it. For a demon in charge of a nation's army, that has to be uncomfortable."

"Wolfram, Yuuri, Greta…even you and Gunter…this will change all of us."

"That was always going to happen," Conrad said, reaching out to lay a hand on Gwendal's shoulder. "Answer me this one question, honestly. I know you can step away now, releasing the both of you from this uncomfortable state of uncertainty. That's fine. But, be honest…when he falls in love again, no matter who with, what will you do?"

Gwendal paused, his mind supplying him with a series of fast moving images: The Maou's first arrival in Shin Makoku, his return with Morgif, chained together in desert, the bearbees, the dragons, and a million breakfasts, lunches and dinners shared together. He thought of the countless mornings working with Yuuri just across the room from him…dancing with the king, resting together under the willow, waking to find Yuuri in his arms, in his bed where everything felt right. He thought of Yuuri brushing his hair, adjusting his jacket, fingers laced together, their passionate kisses, and most especially the first, damp kiss shared at Shinou's temple. He gripped onto his little bando-kun tightly and closed his eyes, almost physically swaying against the rapid succession of mental images. Five years was nothing more than the blink of any eye to any demon, but there were more memories than he could handle—and all of them centered around Yuuri. From the moment he arrived until this very afternoon, and every moment after, Gwendal realized, finally, that he'd loved the Maou from the beginning and would, always.

"I would…resign my position and leave Blood Pledge Castle." He whispered, answering Conrad's question.

"The Maou-Heika would not suffer the loss of his General, so, I suggest, brother, that you pull yourself together and simply accept the inevitable. He is relentless, even without trying, and you should know that better than anyone. Have you ever told him how you came by those scars on your back? Surely he's seen them by now."

"Yes, he's seen them before, but he has been careful not to ask. Sometimes he does show some restraint."

"Maybe if he knew the story behind them…maybe if you told him how you got them…he'd understand more about you, and what he means to you."

"If he ever asks me, Conrad, I will tell him the truth. I do not lie to the Maou." Gwendal said, still irritated, especially since Conrad was making so much sense.

"Might be nice if you treated yourself to the same courtesy, brother. Stop lying to yourself. I know from experience that it's just better to admit your affection, in my case, or passion in your case, for Yuuri. Why fight against fate?"

Gwendal nodded, stopping by the edge of a small stream that ran through the woods. He sat down, his back straight and stared at nothing in particular.

"I'll leave you to think on this further. Don't take too long. We need to get moving."

Gwendal took several deep breaths and struggled to control his temper. He still didn't quite understand how his brother could be so easy and comfortable carrying the affection of the Maou. It was one thing to carry professional responsibility, and he prided himself on his ability to provide for his family and personal obligations both financially and in terms of leadership. Still, opening his heart and allowing the Maou access…? That was something altogether different, and he wasn't sure if he was…_qualified_. Snorting, Gwendal dismissed the thought angrily. He was a grown demon, fully aged and experienced, and sitting on the bank of the stream moping like some lovesick cowherd was not how he lived his life!

Standing, he brushed the remnants of grass and soil from the back of his coat, and made his way back to the makeshift camp. He nodded to his soldiers, allowed Gunter's knowing smile to wash over him without any more immodest displays of temper, and returned to the carriage. He made sure the door was firmly closed and latched before he turned to the Maou. Yuuri-heika was watching him, his expression unreadable, and the lunch basket was perched on the seat next to him, untouched. Gwendal filed that detail away to be handled as soon as he addressed the first problem.

He sat across from the King and stared at the young ruler, taking in his handsome features. He loved Yuuri's eyes, their expressiveness and the open window they provided to his thoughts. He loved the younger man's hands, which were now clasped together in his lap. He loved his laughter, and his sighs, and most of all, his smile. Still, he was discomfited and would be until he got the current weight he was carrying off his chest.

"You make me happy," he growled, his voice accusing. "Being with you makes me happy, and I find that the more time I spend with you, the more time I want to spend with you."

"I…I'm…sorry?" Yuuri said, clearly puzzled and offering an apology.

Gwendal waved him off with a sharp hand gesture. "Just let me finish. I am not accustomed to happiness, Heika, and it unsettles me. But, I find that as much as it makes me…uncomfortable…I want more of it. You are handsome, and sweet, forgiving and just. You go out of your way to please everyone around you. I admire your ease with people, even if some of your habits still baffle me. But, being with you makes me…_happy_."

Yuuri sat on the seat, waiting patiently, his expression as serious as Gwendal's tone.

"I don't care what has happened in the past, or what will happen—your engagement, and my responsibilities, even these as yet unknown assailants currently moving against us—none of that matters to me now, as long as I have a place in your life. I thought I could do this without…becoming enamored of you. I thought I could fulfill the obligations of my position in your life without jealousy or concern." His voice deepened despite his best intentions, and he knew he sounded angry, but if he didn't say what was on his mind, Gwendal knew he never would. "It's all your fault, Heika. If you weren't who you are, then this would never have happened. And after I've finished speaking, I won't talk about this again. But, I care for you. And it's your fault."

Gwendal folded his arms over his chest and closed his mouth, feeling the lump settle in his throat.

"Have you finished?" The Maou asked quietly.

"Yes," he bit out.

"I see." The Maou scratched his head and blushed bright red—making Gwendal want to gather him in his arms and hold the young man close. "I…don't really remember what I said to you when the Maou took over in your office, but, whatever happened…whatever I said…whatever I told you that I feel…I probably feel more than I said. I care for you, too. A lot. I'm sorry if having feelings for me makes you angry. All I can say is that it makes me…happy."

"You want my affection?" Gwendal said, his question as harsh as any interrogation he'd ever conducted.

"Yeah," the King replied, looking at his hands. "More than you know."

"Done," Gwendal said, jerking his head in a sharp nod and opening his arms.

It took no time for the Maou to fill his arms and his lap. The kiss they shared belied all his gruff words and harsh gestures. He promised himself that for as long as he stood as the King's lover, then Yuuri would never feel anything but tender, solicitous adoration from him. Maybe he couldn't bring himself to speak in the way of a courtier, or a romantic man, but he could show the King what he felt, and he just hoped it was enough.

"You can be so harsh when you talk," Yuuri whispered when Gwendal finally pulled back from plundering the King's mouth. "But, you're gentle on the inside."

Gwendal shivered. It was strange to be read so completely. "I promise, Yuuri, to be attentive and caring in my actions. It is…the best I can do. It is…easier for me when it is just us, but this time…is rare. Mostly, we will be surrounded by others, and I would ask that you…trust me."

"I always have," Yuuri replied, winding his arms around Gwendal's neck. "I will try not to make you uncomfortable anymore. I won't apologize for you being happy, though."

"Very well," Gwendal agreed. "Now, why haven't you eaten?"

Yuuri stared at him as though he'd just asked him why he hadn't sprouted wings and flown around the carriage. The young man slammed into his chest as the carriage lurched into motion again.

"I…I was too nervous to eat."

"Silly," Gwendal chided him, grazing his knuckles over the King's cheek. "You need to eat."

"So do you," the Maou returned.

"Then, we'll eat, Yuuri…and later, when we stop for the night, if you want, we'll pick up where we left off earlier."

"I'd like that," the King whispered, blushing again, but holding Gwendal's gaze.

"Me, too."

The rest of the day's journey passed without incident. As the miles ground away beneath the carriage wheels, Gwendal felt his mood ease again. He was…pleasantly surprised, as he had been at breakfast the previous morning, at how companionable the Maou was. They lounged together in the carriage, nibbling from the basket, which someone—Gunter he had suspected—had packed with care. Both his and the Maou's favorite treats were carefully wrapped and ready for them. There was even a small flask of scotch at the bottom of the basket, and Gwendal enjoyed two or three sips as he relaxed against the cushions, one arm around the Maou's slim shoulders and the The Tale of Samuel Whiskers in his other hand. Every so often, Yuuri held out another nibble for him—a bite of cheese or a piece of muffin—and waited for Gwendal to gingerly take the morsel from his fingers with his teeth. Every third bite or so, Gwendal remembered to press small kisses to the King's fingers which made the younger man snuggle closer to his side.

He smiled at the small pictures of the corpulent rat and his thin, beleaguered wife. Yuuri had said these books were written for children, but he found them to be utterly charming. It was a thoughtful gift, and one that told him that the Maou had taken care to choose presents that would not only be appreciated (because he would appreciate anything Yuuri chose to give him), but reflected a knowledge of Gwendal's tastes. That train of thought led him to think about what present he might choose for the Maou. He needed to know the King a bit better, of course, and there were already things that were tacitly understood to belong to the purview of others. Gunter, for example, gave Yuuri books and other more scholarly gifts. Wolfram gave him art. Conrad gave him presents that were sporting, or related to that baseball game they both loved so much. Geika always gifted the Maou with presents from their world—encompassing technology that Gwendal really didn't understand. All he tended to give the King were knitted stuffed animals of dubious origin, other knitted items, or weaponry. He stared at the page in front of him, wondering…what could he get the King that would show the young man what Gwendal really felt? He didn't know, but he filed it away and decided to think on it again when he had more time.

--O.o.O—

Yozak was waiting for the royal entourage when the carriage rolled into the Inn's courtyard. He waved to the soldiers and nodded to Gunter as they began the process of dismounting. However, when the carriage door opened and Gwendal appeared, looking more smug than he had even after the rebels in the north of Shin Makoku had been subdued (before Yuuri-heika had ever arrived), he allowed himself a tentative hope. His mood soared, though, when the Maou appeared, peeking over Gwendal's shoulder, then exiting the carriage and sliding his hand into the curve of the tall, grim General's elbow. It was looking very good for his bet.

"Yo!" He called out, waving at the Maou.

"Hi, Yozak!" Yuuri said, happily, as Gwendal steered him toward the door.

"I see you've arrived safely," the General said, looking him over. "Anything of interest to report?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Your Excellency," He said, grinning when Yuuri nuzzled his cheek against Gwendal's arm. "Bocchan, your rooms are ready and there's a hot bath waiting for you. Shall I assist Lord von Kleist with settling the soldiers?"

"Good idea," Gwendal replied, staring at him suspiciously. "I will accompany the Maou."

"Right, then. Your rooms are at the end of the hall, top floor. I'll see you later."

"OK," Yuuri said, smiling at him. "At dinner, right?"

"You bet, Heika."

Yozak sauntered off in the direction of the stables, knowing full well that Gwendal was staring at his back. He couldn't help his mirth, though…because it really was looking very good for his bet, and he had plans for all the money he intended to win.

"Ah, Yozak," Gunter said, as the red-haired spy entered the stable. "I trust Gwendal and Heika are safely inside the Inn?"

"Yes, indeed," he replied, smirking. "Attached at the hip, I'd say."

"I must admit, things seem to finally be moving in the right direction."

"Yuuri is happy. I'm no magician and I don't have a lick of maryoku, but even I can see that. I just hope his Excellency can seal the deal before too much time passes."

"Me, too. He's having a great deal of difficulty accepting his feelings, but I don't think he will be able to resist Yuuri too much longer." Conrad said as he stepped from the shadows.

"Taichou," Yozak said, nodding. He prided himself on being as silent as the shadows themselves, but it was still amazing how his friend and captain could seemingly appear from thin air.

"What news from your scouting forays?" Gunter asked.

"Well, people aren't talking about anything other than the exciting news that the Maou has taken a lover." Yozak said, taking a seat on a bale of hay. "Everyone I've run across has spoken of the event in excited tones, though there are many women who don't understand why the Maou would choose someone as frightening as Gwendal when he is already engaged to such a delicious blonde."

"About that," Gunter said, softly. "I had a pigeon mail during the journey today, which I will share with Gwendal later and allow him to decide whether or not to tell Yuuri. The details are unclear, but Wolfram has been injured back at the castle. However, the message, from my daughter, speculates that the injuries may well have been self-inflicted and made to look like an accident."

Yozak held his breath, looking to his taichou to gauge Conrad's reaction. The brown-haired soldier frowned. "I…find it hard to believe that Wolfram would do something so…dangerous. Still, it must be investigated either way—in case it was another attempt made against Yuuri and Gwendal that happened to catch Wolfram unaware. We should return messages to both Gisela and Anissina instructing them to be cautious. Also to my mother. It would be best if she was in charge while we are away."

"Do you want to go and investigate for yourself?" Gunter asked.

"Yes," Conrad replied simply. "But, let's discuss it with Gwendal first and see what he says. The Maou and his safety must come first."

"Your journey was slowed today because of the sheer number of people traveling with you and the carriage," Yozak pointed out. "My horse is fresh and I can easily return to the castle and meet up with you again tomorrow. Why not let me go now, and see what has really happened."

"A good idea," Gunter agreed.

Conrad nodded and Yozak stood. "I'll be on my way in less than fifteen minutes."

As he left the Inn's courtyard, Yozak doubled back so that he made a quick tour of the perimeter. As he passed near the far side of the Inn, he looked up at the windows on the top floor just in time to see Lord von Voltaire lift the Maou into his arms and carry him out of sight. He sighed. It looks like his victory might be delayed just a little bit longer.

--O.o.O—

It was late by the time Yuuri and Gwendal finally had the private time they'd discussed earlier in the day. Sometimes, being the King really did have its disadvantages. First, there had been the obligatory reports from soldiers, Conrad and Gunter. He had been careful to maintain his physical distance from Gwendal, even though what he really wanted to do was snuggle into his General's lap and order every one else out of their small sitting room. Still, he knew his duties, so he made the best of the situation and quietly acquiesced to the interruptions.

There had been no attempts made by bandits or conspirators during the day, and that was a good thing, he supposed. Then dinner had been served in the large, common dining room of the Inn, and because this was supposed to be a pleasure trip, Yuuri had been expected to stay with everyone else and be social and cheerful. Glancing at Gwendal, as the evening had worn on, he could see the telltale signs of his General's headache—the pinched, wrinkled brow, and the dark circles beneath Gwendal's eyes. The demon he loved was tired, exhausted, and Yuuri didn't think he was faring much better.

Then, for a while, Gwendal and Conrad disappeared. Yuuri was used to that, of course, and he understood that sometimes brothers have things to discuss, because he had a brother of his own. Thinking of Shori made him think of Wolfram, and thinking of Wolfram chased away his hopeful feelings again. He knew he was upsetting his fiancé's world by taking this trip, by allowing himself to have such strong feelings for Wolfram's brother, but, there had to be way for it all to work out. There just had to be. So, Yuuri grabbed onto that hope and held onto it. He loved Gwendal—there was no denying it. And while Gwendal didn't love him, he had said that he cared for him, wanted him, and that Yuuri made him happy. Knowing that made the young King feel strangely…peaceful. He grinned to himself, delighted to be the source of Gwendal's happiness, because he knew that was something very rare, indeed. So, he'd find a way to work with Wolfram and he'd find a way to work it out for all of them. He was the Maou, right? That had to stand for something.

Consequently, however, it was extremely late when Gwendal finally returned and ushered Yuuri up the stairs and back toward their rooms. The moment they'd first arrived, they'd tried to take a nice, long bath—but that had been converted into a hurried wash and dry, thanks to the soldiers whom were anxious to report to their general. Now, it was too late and the water had been long drained. There was nothing to do, really, except change into pajamas and slide in between the sheets of the hired bed. Yuuri held his breath, waiting to see if Gwendal would want to hold him, or turn away from him and just sleep. He let it out in a relieved sigh when Gwendal gathered him in his arms and tucked him tightly against his side.

"Yuuri," He said, softly, against his ear. "I'm sorry we've had so little time alone."

"Don't apologize," Yuuri replied, nuzzling against Gwendal's chest. "Some nights are just like that. How's your headache? Would you like me to…ease your pain?"

"How did you know…?" Gwendal's voice, in the darkness, seemed surprised.

"I can tell by your expressions, and the circles under your eyes. Would you let me help?" Yuuri asked, trying to avoid being pushy. "You might sleep a little better."

"Very well," Gwendal said, kissing the shell of Yuuri's ear lightly. "I would appreciate it."

In the soft blue glow that marked the release of his healing majutsu, Yuuri could see Gwendal's tightly pinched features relax. "Is that better," he asked, when the glow had faded. He yawned, suddenly sleepy after that final burst of power.

"Much," Gwendal whispered, pulling Yuuri closer still. "Close your eyes, Yuuri, and go to sleep. We'll just have to see what tomorrow brings, all right?"

"All right, Gwen," Yuuri said, feeling almost drugged and drowsy. His heart beat heavily in his chest, and it felt so good to be near the one he loved. He wanted this every night, and even though he couldn't tell Gwendal everything in his heart, he was happy to know that at the very least what they had together was more than anything he ever hoped to have for his own."

"I love you, Yuuri. No matter what happens. Forever."

The soft confession in his ear—yes, that's what it would sound like if Gwendal said the words. Yuuri smiled, maybe one day…maybe. After all, he'd grown up without ever dreaming there was another world where he would one day be king—and that had happened. Was it so strange to hope that Gwendal might one day reciprocate his feelings? What would it be like, he wondered. What would he say?

"I love you, too, Gwen."

Yes, that's just what he'd say…and one day, he might have the chance.

* * *

_And there is the end of Chapter 8. You know, as I write this, I keep thinking…ok, this will happen next, and then this will happen, and…Gwendal refuses to cooperate. He's more skittish than a virgin on Prom Night, and I suppose he just refuses to be rushed. Ok, wanted to get this chapter up, now I have to dash to work. I'll be back later this afternoon to catch up on mail and another chapter. Thanks a lot for your awesome reviews and your well-wishes. I'm really sorry for these delays…it bugs me when I can't be right on top of things. However, I suppose if I didn't work, then I couldn't pay the bills and that would be bad! So, next chapter…we should find out whether they actually said the words, or if Yuuri dreamed them. Savvy grammarians already know. I'll be seeing you…SN_


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